“Yes, I heard about that,” she said. “But it didn’t make any difference to me. I knew better all along, and told them so.”
“You told them so?”
“Of course I did. You see, I knew you better than that—even though we hadn’t done very much talking together, had we? And so that was your reason. Well you have adhered to your resolve—yes, grandly.”
“Do you remember that morning up on Ehlatini, you were warning me about Ancram? Well, that story was nearly all true. I did think my life was too good to put in pawn for the sake of that of a peculiarly abominable specimen of the genus gutter-brat—a specimen which was bound to be hung sooner or later—probably sooner. I think so still.”
She shook her head, trying to look solemn.
“All life is sacred,” she began.
“Is it? Mine wasn’t—not much. But I’m pretty sure that the immersed gutter-snipe’s was less so.”
No, there was no keeping up the solemnity line. Clare went off into a rippling peal of laughter.
“I can’t help it,” she exclaimed. “But don’t imagine I approve. It was very wrong indeed to let slip an opportunity of saving life.”
“Oh, for the matter of that, if the wretched little beast had been quite alone the case would have been different. As it was, there were plenty of others to haul him out if they chose, so I let them. Then I was insulted and abused by the last person in the world who should have done so, and that in front of a gang of gaping clodhoppers. I hope Ancram didn’t leave that part of the story out, because then you will know I have been engaged before.”