“If you call a lover one that would peril his own life to bring shame and disgrace on hers, I am such a man.”
“It is not more than a week ago you told me, in all seriousness, that you would marry her, if she 'd have you.”
“And I say it again, here and now; and I say more, that if I had the legal right over her that marriage would give me, I'd make her rue the day she outraged Ludlow Paten.”
“It was Paul Hunt that she slighted, man,” said Stocmar, half sneeringly. “You forget that.”
“Is this meant for a threat, Stocmar?”
“Don't be a fool,” said the other, carelessly. “What I meant was, that other times had other interests, and neither she, nor you, nor, for that matter, I myself, want to live over the past again.”
Paten threw his cigar angrily from him, and sat brooding and moody; for some time nothing was heard between them save the clink of the decanter as they filled their glasses, and passed the wine.
“Trover's off,” mattered Paten, at last.
“Off! Whereto?”
“To Malta, I believe; and then to Egypt—anywhere, in short, till the storm blows over. This American crash has given them a sharp squeeze.”