“But why?” he demanded impatiently.
She took her courage in both hands, and plunged.
“I want to talk to you,” she said eagerly. “I want to ask you if there is no way––”
“Excuse me!” he broke in. “I don’t want you to talk to me. If I did––”
He stopped, with a shrug. Marion felt her face reddening, but she dissembled her embarrassment.
“Oh!” she exclaimed. “You’re not afraid of me, are you?”
It was spoken archly, in her most playful, most kittenish manner, and so she was amazed to see his face distorted as if by some violent emotion. But he spoke with restraint, though in a tone that was hard and harsh.
“Yes, I am afraid of you. The only thing in the world a man needs to fear is a woman.”
The first effect of this speech was to surprise and shock her. The next was to make her heart leap. Had she come near the secret, after all? Then, finally, something deep in the man’s eyes roused in her a thrill of pity. In another minute she would have melted, in her compassion, and begged him humbly to pardon her. But at that instant Curly emerged from the barn, leading the sorrels; and the devil that lurks behind a woman’s tongue spoke for her before she was aware of it.