Sylv braced himself a little, and looked resolute. "Now I give you fair warning," he said. "I tell you square that I don't care about Adela Reefe more than as a sister—my sister and your wife that is to be. Are you going to deny my word?"
"Yes, I am," the other asserted, doggedly.
"And you're going on, after that, to assert that I took her love away from you?"
"Yes, I am."
"Then I say, you lie!" Sylv returned, hotly. The same passionateness that ruled Dennis was present in him, also, though well concealed under his habitual calm; but it had broken loose now.
In an instant Dennis lifted his gun to an aim. "No man can say that to me," he thundered.
His finger slid down to the trigger, and he drew the hammer back.
Sylv stood in the road, unmoved, the books under his arms. "It's too easy a shot," he said, quickly, but in a low voice. "Besides, I can't fire back."
"You won't have any call for that," Dennis assured him, grimly. He spoke coolly, but his rage completely mastered him.
"Stop!" cried Sylv, when the gun-mouth seemed about to burst into flame.