But there was no hiding.
There she was exposed naked on the naked flank of the horse.
The horse stood stock still, stretched in a kind of start. It was a
massive, magnificent stallion, rigid with pent-up power. Its neck was
arched and terrible, like a sickle, its flanks were pressed back, rigid
with power.
Gudrun went pale, and a darkness came over her eyes, like shame, she
looked up with a certain supplication, almost slave-like. He glanced at
her, and jerked his head a little.
'How big is it?' she asked, in a toneless voice, persisting in
appearing casual and unaffected.
'How big?' he replied, glancing again at her. 'Without pedestal--so
high--' he measured with his hand--'with pedestal, so--'
He looked at her steadily. There was a little brusque, turgid contempt
for her in his swift gesture, and she seemed to cringe a little.
'And what is it done in?' she asked, throwing back her head and looking
at him with affected coldness.
He still gazed at her steadily, and his dominance was not shaken.
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