"What a little thing life is after all! He only said one word--only one. He was selling watermelons, and some brute tried to cheat him first, and then cheeked him. And he forgot a moment and said: Chup-raho,' (be silent)--only that!--'chup-raho'! They were bragging of it--the devils. We knew he couldn't be a coolie, they said, that is a master's word.' My God! What wouldn't I give to say it sometimes! I could have shouted to them then, Chup-raho, you fools! you cowards!' and some of them would have been silent enough----"
He broke off hurriedly, clenching his hands like a vise on each other, as if to curb the tempest of words.
"I beg your pardon," he said after a pause, rising to walk away; "I--I lose control----" He paused again and shook his head silently. Kate followed him and laid her hand on his arm; the loose gold fetter slipped to her wrist and touched him too.
"You think I don't understand," she said with a sudden sob in her voice, "but I do--you must go away--it isn't worth it--no woman is worth it."
He turned on her sharply. "Go? You know I can't. What is the use of suggesting it? Mrs. Erlton! Tara is faithful; but she is faithful to me--only to me--you must see that surely----"
"If you mean that she loves you--worships the very ground you tread on," interrupted Kate sharply, "that is evident enough."
"Is that my fault?" he began angrily; "I happened----"
"Thank you, I have no wish to hear the story."
The commonplace, second-rate, mock-dignified phrase came to her lips unsought, and she felt she could have cried in sheer vexation at having used it there; in the very face of Death as it were. But Jim Douglas laughed; laughed good-naturedly.
"I wonder how many years it is since I heard a woman say that? In another world surely," he said with quite a confidential tone. "But the fact remains that Tara protects you as my wife, and if I were to go----"