"But why prolong this interview longer, Miss Glen? Your secret is safe with me. Probably you came here to learn that. I will not allow you to betray it, either;"—how inconsistent he was, she thought;—"you know that I love you, and I know that you do not love me, that your heart is with that man on the ship. Won't you please leave me to myself? I really shall need all my self-command, my strength, to face the court-martial, and you—you—unman me. I thank you for coming to see me, but—forgive my apparent discourtesy—I would rather be alone. Good-by."
"Wait," she said. "That man on the Wabash—"
"By heaven!" he interrupted savagely—he was a man of somewhat elemental passions when he was aroused, and he was thoroughly aroused then—"have you no mercy, no pity? This is too much! I don't want to hear a word about him. Whoever he is I—"
"Stop, sir!" cried the girl, impressively, "or you will say something for which you will be sorry."
"Sorry! I should like to have him within reach of my hand!" he said grimly, extending his arm as he spoke, and his expression was not pleasant to see. "I'd—"
"I am sure," she went on hurriedly, cutting him off, "you would not do a thing to him if he stood right here."
"Would I not? And pray, why not?" he asked her bitterly.
"Because—"
She stopped, reluctant to disclose her secret. Once she did so her power was gone.
"Because—" she said again.