It was the one that she had sworn she’d throw out, if only Julian had not liked it so much. Before he could draw in the rein, his steed—startled apparently by some object undistinguishable by the rider,—swerved with such suddenness as to unseat him, and precipitate him on the ground. One’s got to be a better man than one’s father, or what is the good of successive generations? Life is rebellion, or nothing. He had the same dark eyes, though lighted by a fierce flame; the same sallow complexion; the same tall, thin figure, and majestic demeanour; the same proud cast of features. "And you will answer it frankly?" "Certainly.
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