“You have given me my life, my defense,” he continued, passing from a subject that he perceived was better left untouched. “Who is nearest and dearest to you at home?”
“My Uncle Duke.”
“Then I never will raise a hand against your Uncle Duke. And this man, to-night––this cousin––Gale? Nan, what is that man?”
“I hate him.”
“Thank God! So do I!”
“But he is a cousin.”
“Then I suppose he must be one of mine.”
“Unless he tries to kill you.”
“He won’t be very long in trying that. And now, what about yourself? What have you got to defend yourself against him, and against every other drunken man?”