Then, the least whisper of gossip connecting him with Miss Sorel, or even Mrs. Garth, might have ruined the prospect of marriage with his cousin: and that would have been, indirectly, as harmful to Marise as himself. Now, however, when there was nothing further to be gained or lost for either of them from Constantine Ionides, Severance need think only of himself and Marise; and he thought of himself first.
His intention was to take Marise away from Garth, who had no right to the girl and was keeping her against her true wish. If necessary, Severance would take her by force, for her own good, because then the thing would be done and over with: there would be no going back. But—anyhow—he would take her!
Mums had urged him to wire, if his first attempt failed, and Garth refused to see reason as presented to him with mild bluff. She wanted to fly to the Grand Canyon and be on the spot—ready for emergencies—to stand by her daughter. But Severance wasn't sure even now, as things had turned out, whether he would be wise in furthering this wish.
It was natural, of course. But just as scandal would have been fatal before, it might be useful in the present situation. If her "Mums" were close at hand, Marise might in the first confusion of her mind seek refuge under the maternal wing, from the man she loved. If she did anything futile like that, it would give Garth time to act: whereas, if Marise had no refuge but her lover—oh, distinctly it would be tempting Providence to telegraph to Mums!
"Well?" said Garth, when Marise stood statuelike in the blue dusk.
"I don't think it is very well," she answered slowly.
"I warned you fairly that I'd not stand out of Severance's way," Garth reminded her, his face so grey and grim in the twilight that the girl remembered how she had thought it looked carved from rock.
"Yet only a few minutes ago you offered to leave me, for a bribe of a second million."
"There can't be a 'second' million till there's been a first."