" She took a step backward and stood
staring at him in mute misery. She had never felt that she was worthy
of him, in a way, but his cold reference--as she understood it--to her
misfortune released a spring of resentment she hardly knew was wound in
her breast.
"Forgive me," he pleaded, trying to regain her hands. "I'll never
mention it again. I promise you that--never again."
"It's all right," she answered, softening under his passionate gaze.
"But it would be kind of you to avoid mentioning what I cannot help."
He was about to reply, but there was a sound of barking dogs from the
mountain. "Go quick!" She caught her breath. "Don't wait! That may
be them now. Don't let them kill you."
He did not stir. "You'd better go home," he said, calmly. "I don't
care a straw what becomes of me. I've had enough of the whole
business. I have got as much right to live as anybody else, and I will
not be driven from pillar to post by a gang of outlaws, headed by a
coward." He drew a revolver, and, half cocking it, carelessly twirled
the cylinder with his thumb.
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