Every spare minute of his day—­and he had many—­the colonel spent in his stables superintending the training of The Rogue.  He was infinitely worse than a mother with her first child.  If the latter acts as if she invented maternity, one would have thought the colonel had fashioned the gelding as the horse of Troy was fashioned.

The Rogue’s success meant everything to him—­everything in the world.  He would be obliged to win.  Colonel Desha was not one who believed in publishing a daily “agony column.”  He could hold his troubles as he could his drink—­like a gentleman.  He had not intended that Sue should be party to them, but that night of the confession they had caught him unawares.  And he played the host to Mr. Waterbury as only a Southern gentleman can.

That the turfman had motives other than mere friendship and regard when proffering his advice and financial assistance, the colonel never suspected.  It was a further manifestation of his childish streak and his ignorance of his fellow man.  His great fault was in estimating his neighbor by his own moral code.  It had never occurred to him that Waterbury loved Sue, and that he had forced his assistance while helping to create the necessity for that assistance, merely as a means of lending some authority to his suit.  But Waterbury possessed many likable qualities; he had stood friend to Colonel Desha, whatever his motives, and the latter honored him on his own valuation.

Fear never would have given the turfman the entree to the Desha home; only friendship.  Down South hospitality is sacred.  When one has succeeded in entering a household he is called kin.  A mutual trust and bond of honor exist between host and guest.  The mere formula; “So-and-So is my guest,” is a clean bill of moral health.  Therefore, in whatever light Sue may have regarded Mr. Waterbury, her treatment of him was uniformly courteous and kindly.

Necessarily they saw much of each other.  The morning rides, formerly with Garrison, were now taken with Mr. Waterbury.  This was owing partly to the former’s close application to the track, partly to the courtesy due guest from hostess whose father is busily engaged, and in the main to a concrete determination on Sue’s part.  This intimacy with Sue Desha was destined to work a change in Waterbury.

He had come unworthy to the Desha home.  He acknowledged that to himself.  Come with the purpose of compelling his suit, if necessary.  His love had been the product of his animalistic nature.  It was a purely sensual appeal.  He had never known the true interpretation of love; never experienced the society of a womanly woman.  But it is in every nature to respond to the highest touch; to the appeal of honor.  When trust is reposed, fidelity answers.  It did its best to answer in Waterbury’s case.  His better self was slowly awakening.

Those days were wonderful, new, happy days for Waterbury.  He was received on the footing of guest, good comrade.  He was fighting to cross the line, searching for the courage necessary—­he who had watched without the flicker of an eyelash a fortune lost by an inch of horse-flesh.  And if the girl knew, she gave no sign.