“How dared she show you my letter—YOU of all men? How dared she ask YOUR help?” continued Teresa, fiercely.
“But she didn't athk my help,” he responded coolly. “D—d if I don't think she jutht calculated I'd be glad to know you were being hunted down and thtarving, that I might put Dunn on your track.”
“You lie!” said Teresa, furiously; “she was my friend. A better friend than those who professed—more,” she added, with a contemptuous drawing away of her skirt as if she feared Curson's contamination.
“All right. Thettle that with her when you go back,” continued Curson philosophically. “We can talk of that on the way. The thing now ith to get up and get out of thethe woods. Come!”
Teresa's only reply was a gesture of scorn.
“I know all that,” continued Curson half soothingly, “but they're waiting.”
“Let them wait. I shall not go.”
“What will you do?”
“Stay here—till the wolves eat me.”
“Teresa, listen. D—- it all—Teresa—Tita! see here,” he said with sudden energy. “I swear to God it's all right. I'm willing to let by-gones be by-gones and take a new deal. You shall come back as if nothing had happened, and take your old place as before. I don't mind doing the square thing, all round. If that's what you mean, if that's all that stands in the way, why, look upon the thing as settled. There, Tita, old girl, come.”