“There is no good place to hide anywhere above here,” said Nan, regarding him intently.
“Why look so hard at me, then?” he asked. “If this is the last of it, I can take it here with our one lone cartridge.”
Her eyes were bent on him as if they would pierce him through. “If I save your life––” still breathing fast, she hesitated for words––“you won’t trick me––ever––will you?”
Steadily returning her appealing gaze, de Spain answered with deliberation. “Don’t ever give me a chance to trick you, Nan.”
“What do you mean?” she demanded, fear and distrust burning in her tone.
“My life,” he said slowly, “isn’t worth it.”
“You know––” He could see her resolute underlip, pink with fresh young blood, quiver with intensity of feeling as she faltered. “You know what every man says of every girl––foolish, trusting, easy to deceive––everything like that.”
“May God wither my tongue before ever it speaks to deceive you, Nan.”
“A while ago you frightened me so–––”
“Frightened you! Great God!” He stepped closer and looked straight down into her eyes. “If you had raised just one finger when I was bluffing that fellow, I’d have calmed down and eaten out of your little hand, by the hour!”