Evered answered curtly, “No. I reached him.”
Darrin nodded. “You could handle him?”
“The beast knows me,” said Evered.
And even while he spoke he remembered how the great bull, as though regretting that which he had done, had stood quietly by until he was led away. He did not tell Darrin this; there were no more words in him. He had spoken too much already. Darrin was watching him now, he saw; and it seemed to Evered that there was a hard and hostile light of calculation in the other’s eye.
He turned away his head, and Darrin asked, “How came she here with Semler?”
Evered swung toward the man so hotly that for a moment Darrin was afraid; and then the older man’s eyes misted and his lips twisted weakly and he brushed them with the back of his hand.
He did not answer Darrin at all; and after a moment Darrin said, “Forgive me. It must hurt you to remember; to look round here. You must see the whole thing over again.”
Evered stood still for a moment; then he said abruptly: “I’ve sat too long. I’ll be back at work.”
He went stiffly up the knoll. Darrin called after him, “Come down again. You know the way.”
Evered did not turn, he made no reply. When he was beyond the other’s sight he stopped once and looked back, and his eyes were faintly furtive. He muttered something under his breath. He was cursing his folly in having talked with Darrin.