"Temper?" I said, fairly aghast at this bald accusation.
"Yes, temper. Have you been like everybody else—unable to recognize your own dearest failing? Don't you know that even as a little boy they used to say of you that you'd rather fight than eat? Are all red-headed men like that?"
"Never mind the other red-headed men," I returned. "What price did my temper make us pay?—and when?"
"I wonder if you went through it all without knowing—without realizing?" she said musingly. "Do you remember one night when you were taking Aunt Mehitable and me to the theater and some lobby lounger made a remark that you didn't like?"
"Yes, I remember it. I would have killed the beast if they hadn't pulled me off him. That remark was made about you, Conetta."
"I know. But you—you scandalized poor Aunt Mehitable. She began to say, right then, that I could never hope to have a happy married life with a man who had such an ungovernable temper. Wasn't it more or less true, Dick?"
Back of the island period and its tremendous revelations I should probably have said that it wasn't true. But now I only asked for better information.
"Once upon a time your aunt made two wills; made one, and revoked it with another within a week. Was that done to find out how much I would stand for?"
"I—I'm afraid it was." She admitted it reluctantly.
"Since it is all dead and buried long ago, you might tell me a little more about it. What she said to me was that she had heard of the loss of my property, and that she thought it was only fair to tell me that, under the terms of her will, you wouldn't inherit anything but a small legacy. She added that, of course, under such conditions our marriage was out of the question; that the only thing for me to do was to set you free."