“I’m all right, I assure you,” I mumbled thickly, and helpless as a babe to the clinging of her cold fingers.
“How’s the other man?” they abruptly asked.
“I don’t know. He was carried away. But I think he’s dead. I hope so—oh, I hope so. The coward, the beast!”
“There, there,” they quieted. “That’s all over with. What he got is his own business now. He hankered for it and was bound to have it. You’d best stay right hyar a spell. It’s the place for you at present.”
They grouped apart, on the edge of the flickering fire circle. The dusk had heightened apace (for nightfall this really was), the glow and flicker barely touched their blackly outlined forms, the murmur of their voices sounded ominous. In the circle we two sat, her hand upon mine, thrilling me comfortably yet abashing me. She surveyed me unwinkingly and grave—a triumph shining from her eyes albeit there were seamy shadows etched into her white face. It was as though she were welcoming me through the outposts of hell.
“You killed him. I knew you would—I knew you’d have to.”
“I knew it, too,” I miserably faltered. “But I 256 didn’t want to—I shot without thinking. I might have waited.”
“Waited! How could you wait? ’Twas either you or he.”
“Then I wish it had been I,” I attempted.
“What nonsense,” she flashed. “We all know you did your best to avoid it. But tell me: Do you think I dragged you into it? Do you hate me for it?”