“Be you gwaine to give me up?”
“Probably I shall—as a matter of duty. I’m a bit of a soldier myself. It’s such a dirty coward’s trick to desert. Yes, I think I shall make an example of you.”
Will looked at him steadily.
“You want to wake the devil in me—I see that. But you won’t. I’m aulder an’ wiser now. So you ’m to give me up? I knawed it wi’out axin’.”
“And that doesn’t wake you?”
“No. Seein’ why I deserted an’ mindin’ your share in drivin’ me.”
Grimbal did not answer, and Will asked him to name a date.
“I tell you I shall suit myself, not you. When you will like it least, be sure of that. I needn’t pretend what I don’t feel. I hate the sight of you still, and the closer you come the more I hate you. It rolls years off me to see your damned brown face so near and hear your voice in my ear,—years and years; and I’m glad it does. You’ve ruined my life, and I’ll ruin yours yet.”
There was a pause; Blanchard stared cold and hard into Grimbal’s eyes; then John continued, and his flicker of passion cooled a little as he did so,—
“At least that’s what I said to myself when first I heard this little bit of news—that I’d ruin you; now I’m not sure.”