Huntington did not answer at once. Claire’s face, already as pale as it could well be, became drawn and ashen, while Marion, seeing the danger, unconsciously took a step forward, as if to throw herself between the two men. For some tense seconds Huntington and Haig faced each other belligerently.
“Got to what, Huntington?” repeated Haig. “There’s nothing I’ve got to do.”
Huntington had not meant the “got” in the sense in which it was taken by Haig. He had begun to say, “You’ve got to admit that was pretty hard.” But his 347 unfortunate pause on the uncompleted sentence had justified Haig in putting the worst possible construction on the objectionable phrase. And now Huntington could not finish it as he had intended, without seeming to back down, or weaken. Nor could he afford to drop the mischievous word for another. In his desperation he took the boldest course, and made a more aggressive speech by far than any he had rehearsed for the occasion, and forgotten.
“You’ve got to take that back!” he blurted out.
It was Haig’s turn now to ponder deeply. His first impulse was to tell Huntington to go to the devil, and thereupon to walk out of the house. But he had come there to make peace; and he bethought himself in time that to give way to anger would only be to allow Huntington the first victory he had ever had over him. Besides––he turned toward Marion, and saw her face distorted with apprehension. That decided the issue.
“All in good time, Huntington,” he said, with a smile. “Your actions certainly justified everything I said. What have you to say about your scheme to take my horse?”
Huntington groped in vain for one of the crushing retorts that he had valiantly prepared for this meeting. Then he caught Marion’s eye again.
“That was a mistake,” he said. “But I’m no thief and no liar.”
“I grant you’re honest enough, Huntington, when you stop to think. As for Sunnysides, he’s settled that business for himself. And if you’ll give me a straightforward answer on one more point, I’ll acquit you of being a liar.”