These words, rising on a wave of anger, came distinctly to Kenneth's ears. He left his place at the gate and walked swiftly along inside his fence until he came to the corner of the yard, where the bushes grew thickly. Here he stopped to await further developments. He heard Barry say, with a harsh laugh:
"Oh, she will, will she?"
"Yes, she will. She knows more about you than you think she does,—and so do I. Let me by! Do you hear me, Bar—"
"That's funny," he interrupted, lowering his voice to a half-whisper. "That's just what I came up to see her about. I want to tell her that I know more about her than she thinks I do. And when I get through telling her what I know she'll change her mind about letting us get married. And you'll marry me, too, my girl, without so much as a whimper. Oh, you needn't look around for big brother,—God, I bet you'd be happy if he wasn't your brother, wouldn't you? Well, he has sneaked into the house, just as I knew he would if it looked like a squall. He's a white-livered coward. How do you like that?"
He was not only astonished but distinctly confounded by the swift, incomprehensible smile that played about her disdainful lips.
"What the hellfire are you laughing at?" he exploded.
"Nothing much. I was only thinking about last night."
"Christ!" he exclaimed, the blood rushing to his face. "Why,—why, you—" The words failed him. He could only stare at her as if stunned by the most shocking confession.
"Please remember that you are speaking to—"
He broke in with a snarling laugh. "By thunder, I'm beginning to believe you're no better than she was. She wasn't anything but a common———, and I'm blessed if I think it's sensible to marry into the family, after all."