"I never loved anyone as I love you," the villain whined.
"I suppose I should be flattered, but I am not. I don't want what you call your love, or anything to do with you."
"D'ye mean that yer goin' to throw me over?"
"Throw you over! I don't understand you."
"Yes, throw me over fer that slick guy you're so chummy with. I suppose he's been tellin' ye what a bad man I am, an' so turned ye against me."
"What right have you to say that? You were never anything to me except just what you are, a creature capable of almost any deed of villainy. I only met you two or three times in my life, and why should you presume to think that you had won my affection?"
"Well, if ye think I'm bad to the core, I will soon show you that I am. It's no use, I see, to beat about the bush any longer. If I can't get you one way I will another, an' I'll have you ahead of that d—— guy who has won your heart. You're here alone with me, remember, an' that's all I want."
Curly had thrown aside all pretense now, and his face bore an ugly expression as he stepped quickly forward. But it was only a step or two he took, for he stopped short with a surprised jerk when he beheld the menacing point of a revolver directed straight at his head. The hand that held the weapon was firm, and the blaze in Glen's eyes was sufficient warning. This was more than he had expected, and he knew not what to do.
"Keep back," the girl ordered.
"Surely ye wouldn't shoot, Miss?" the brute whimpered.