"But you must come to me and tell me what you find out. I don't want you to speak to Durgo more than you can help."
"That is racial instinct and injustice."
"Racial instinct is never unjust. I don't care if Durgo was a black Homer and Bismark and Napoleon rolled into one. He is a man of colour, and I detest the breed. Promise not to have anything to do with him—at all events unless I am present."
"I promise if you will not scold so much," said Bella wilfully.
"I am not scolding. If I did you would cry."
The girl slipped her arm within that of her lover's, pleased to have escaped so easily. "I begin to think that I am marrying a tyrant."
"You are marrying a man who loves you, and who wants to protect you from all dangers. Oh, Bella, Bella! I wish we could go away to London and get married quietly. Then we could go to Australia and leave this bad past behind. Will you come? I have money enough for a year, and by that time I'll be able to get something to do in Melbourne or Sydney."
Bella shook her head. "Dear, I love you dearly, but I can't marry you until I am quite sure that I am not Captain Huxham's daughter."
"In any case," said Cyril bitterly. "You will marry the son of a man who has committed a murder."
"I am not so sure of that. Now that Mr. Pence has told a lie I think that he may have something to do with the matter. He may be guilty."