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But one must not condemn a thing because it has been over-praised. Maltby's 'Ariel' was a delicate, brilliant work; and Braxton's 'Faun, crude though it was in many ways, had yet a genuine power and beauty. This is not a mere impression remembered from early youth. It is the reasoned and seasoned judgment of middle age.
It is true that I may have been convinced wrongly. That is a point which I could settle only by experience. I shift my ground, claiming for Maltby's aristocrats just this: that they pleased me very much. Aristocrats, when they are presented solely through a novelist's sense of beauty, do not satisfy us.
Might not 'Henry Chaplin' be a typographical error for 'Stephen Braxton'? I went out and bought another newspaper. But Mr. Chaplin's name was in that too. 'Patience! I said to myself. 'Braxton crouches only to spring. He will be at Keeb Hall on Saturday next. My mind was free now to dwell with pleasure on Maltby's great achievement.
"Benham, is it EQUESTRIAN?" Benham made no audible reply. They proceeded resolutely in silence. An air of expectation prevailed in Maltby's yard. In the shafts of a high, bleak-looking vehicle with vast side wheels, a throne-like vehicle that impressed Billy Prothero as being a gig, a very large angular black horse was being harnessed. "This is mine," said Benham compactly.
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