"Ay," said Haworth. "You know well enow what I mean. Where did you get it? Do you think I don't know the look on it?"
"You may, or you may not," answered Murdoch. "That is nothing to me. I took it up without thinking of it. If I had thought of it I should have left it where it was. I have no right to it—nor you either."
Haworth drew near to him.
"Give it here!" he demanded, hoarsely.
They stood and looked each other in the eye. Externally Murdoch was the calmer of the two, but he held in check a fiercer heat than he had felt for many a day.
"No," he answered. "Not I. Think over what you are doing. You will not like to remember it to-morrow. It is not mine to give nor yours to take. I have done with my share of it—there it is." And he crushed it in his hand, and flung it, exhaling its fragrance, upon the ground; then turned and went his way. He had not intended to glance backward, but he was not as strong as he thought. He did look backward before he had gone ten yards, and doing so saw Haworth bending down and gathering the bruised petals from the earth.
CHAPTER XVIII. "HAWORTH & CO."
The next day, when he descended from his gig at the gates, instead of going to his office, Haworth went to the engine-room.