"Yes; she tried to return it this morning." Noel spoke with his eyes fixed straight ahead.
"She is wearing it to-night," said Max.
Noel tramped on again in silence.
Suddenly he stopped, facing round upon his brother with a gesture that was openly passionate. "Damn it, Max! You're deuced cool, I must say! Aren't there girls enough in England without your posting out here to take the one I want? She's half in love with me already. I'd have won her over in another week—in less! Very likely to-morrow!"
Max stood still. They had nearly reached the gate that led into Nick's compound. The rustle of the cypresses in the night-wind came to them as they faced each other. Noel's hands were clenched, Max's well out of sight in the depths of his pockets.
He did not speak at once, but there was no hint of irresolution in his attitude.
"Yes," he said, after a moment. "You jolly nearly died for her, and if anyone has a right to her, you have. But, my dear chap, you can't get away from the fact that she was mine before you ever met her. I know that now. I didn't before to-night, though so far as I am concerned, she has been the only girl in the world for a very long time. Not knowing it, I'd have been quite ready—I'd be ready now—for you to have her; glad even. But knowing it—well, it rather alters the case, doesn't it? You see," his mouth twisted a little in the old cynical curve, "we can't hand her about and barter for her like a bale of goods. She's a woman; and—whether we like it or not—in these things the woman must have the casting vote."
"It's so beastly unfair!" Noel broke in hotly, boyishly. "Why the devil couldn't you stay away a little longer?"
"And suppose I had!" For the first time Max spoke sternly. "Suppose I
had!" he repeated, with eyes that suddenly shot green in the starlight.
"Suppose you had won her before I came—suppose you'd been engaged, and
I had come along afterwards! What then?"
"You'd have been too late," said Noel, the dogged note in his voice.