“To hell with you and your opinions!”
“First, you coax her to Bowenville by a promise, then you persuade her by more promises to go to Los Angeles,” the engineer proceeded steadily, “and there you would betray and abandon her to a life on the streets, like the yellow cur you are.”
Sorenson snapped his fingers and moved round to the girl’s side.
“Pay no attention to him,” he addressed her. “He’s only a crazy fool.”
But she drew back against the wall, staring at him with a strained, searching regard.
“Will you marry me to-morrow as he asks?” she questioned anxiously.
“No. I explained the reason why once. Come on; let’s get away from him. Then I’ll make everything clear and satisfactory to you.”
For a moment she stood wavering, picking at her handkerchief, her face pale and unhappy, questioning his countenance. Finally she turned to look at Steele Weir, standing silently by.
“You never said you were engaged to another girl; you told me I was the only one you loved,” she muttered in a choked voice. “But I see now you won’t marry me. You wish me to go with you––but not to marry. I’m going away––away anywhere. By myself! Where I’ll never see any one!” Burying her face in her hands, she shook with sobs.
“This is what comes from your putting an oar in,” said Sorenson, lifting his fist in a burst of fury to strike Weir.