"Why will you persist in trying to frighten me? I know he will come. I know he will!"
"You don't know," said Mercer. "I am not frightening you. You were afraid before you ever spoke to me."
He spoke harshly, without pity, and still his eyes dwelt resolutely upon her. He seemed to be watching her narrowly.
She did not attempt to deny his last words. She passed them by.
"I shall write to Bowker Creek. He may have mistaken the date."
"He may," said Mercer, in a tone she did not understand. "But, in the meantime, why should you turn your back upon the only friend you have at hand? It seems to me that you are making a fuss over nothing. You have been brought up to it, I daresay; but it isn't the fashion here. We are taught to take things as they come, and make the best of 'em. That's what you have got to do. It'll come easier after a bit."
"It will never come easily to me to—to live on charity," she protested, rather incoherently.
"But you can pay me back," said Brett Mercer.
She shook her head.
"Not if—if Robin——"