"Nay, not yet. I've summat more to say."
"Say it," Murdoch replied, "and let us have it over."
"It's this," he returned. "You're a different chap from what I took you for—a different chap. I never thought of you—not once."
"You've said that before."
"Aye," grimly, "I've said it before. Like enough I shall say it again. It sticks to me. We've been good friends, after a manner, and that makes it stick to me. I don't say you're to blame. I haven't quite made the thing out yet. We're of a different build, and—there's been times before when I haven't quite been up to you. But we've been friends, after a manner, and now th' time's come when we're done with that."
"Done with it!" repeated Murdoch, mechanically.
"Aye," meeting his glance fully, "done with it! We'll begin fair and square, lad. It's done with. Do you think," with deadly coolness, "I'd stop at aught if th' time come?"
He rose a little from his seat, bending forward.
"Naught's never come in my way, yet, that's stopped me," he said. "Things has gone agen me and I've got th' best on 'em in one way or another. I've not minded how. I've gone on till I've reached this. Naught's stopped me—naught never shall!"