"Flint!" he cried. He tore the card into bits and flung them to the ground. "So we men are all alike? Well, you ought to know! You have had experience enough. What a fool I have been! What a fool! Well, I am not like the rest of them!"
She drew away. His brow had curdled with bitter intensity. He took her arm in a firm grip and drew a pistol from his pocket.
"Do you see that?" He held the weapon up to her. "I bought that yesterday to call the man out and shoot him.... Then I heard that there was another. Well, in my country we do not waste more than one bullet."
His eyes fell upon her with a mad fury, yet she faced him calmly, almost unafraid.
"Why don't I scream?" she asked herself. "He intends to kill me ... here! And yet I am not even trying to...."
And suddenly she discovered that he had a great black smudge on his nose. She wanted to laugh.
"In my country we do not waste more than one bullet!" he was repeating.
"Yes ... I heard you. You don't have to shout! I'm not deaf!" she could hear herself saying.
He lifted the pistol higher, on a level with her mouth. She could see by the glitter in his eyes that he was in the grip of a dreadful frenzy.
"Temporary insanity! That will be his defense!" she thought at once.