“It isn’t the first time I’ve been in trouble.” His laugh was harsh; it made her cringe and cry:
“I’ve repented for that. I shouldn’t have done it; I don’t know what was the matter with me. Harvey had been telling me things about you—”
“You wouldn’t have believed him—” He laughed, cynically. “There’s no use of haggling over that—it’s buried, and I’ve placed a monument over it: ‘Here lies a fool that believed in a woman.’ I don’t reproach you—you couldn’t be blamed for not wanting to marry an idiot like me. But I haven’t changed. I still have my crazy ideas of honor and justice and square-dealing, and my double-riveted faith in my ability to triumph over all adversity. But women—Bah! you’re all alike! You scheme, you plot, you play for place; you are selfish, cold; you snivel and whine—There is more of it, but I can’t think of any more. But—let’s face this matter squarely. If you still like me, I’m sorry for you, for I can’t say that the sight of you has stirred any old passion in me. You shouldn’t have come out here.”
“You’re terribly resentful, Trev. And I don’t blame you a bit—I deserve it all. But don’t send me away. Why, I—love you, Trev; I’ve loved you all these years; I loved you when I sent you away—while I was married to Harvey; and more afterwards—and now, deeper than ever; and—”
He shook his head and looked at her steadily—cynicism, bald derision in his gaze. “I’m sorry; but it can’t be—you’re too late.”
He dropped her hands, and she felt of the fingers where he had gripped them. She veiled the quick, savage leap in her eyes by drooping the lids.
“You love Rosalind Benham,” she said, quietly, looking at him with a mirthless smile. He started, and her lips grew a trifle stiff. “You poor boy!”
“Why the pity?” he said grimly.
“Because she doesn’t care for you, Trev. She told me yesterday that she was engaged to marry a man named Corrigan. He is out here, she said. She remarked that she had found you very amusing during the three or four weeks of Corrigan’s absence, and she seemed delighted because the court out here had ruled that the land you thought was yours belongs to the man who is to be her husband.”
He stiffened at this, for it corroborated Corrigan’s words: “She is heart and soul with me in this deal, She is ambitious.” Trevison’s lips curled scornfully. First, Hester Keyes had been ambitious, and now it was Rosalind Benham. He fought off the bitter resentment that filled him and raised his head, laughing, glossing over the hurt with savage humor.