The American's thoughts were not pleasant. It came to him that this argument of hers was indeed very sound, and he quailed before it. Jenson's whole life had been leading up to his greatest villainy; his own entire life had been leading up to—what? So with other men he knew, and women.
So with his own wife—her life a tissue of trifles, of petty vanities and unworthy ambitions, until it had culminated in finding a man after her own stamp, and her preferment of him to her husband.
Little things, all of them, yet when united all led irrevocably to some great valley of decision. Why, this serious-eyed girl had hit to the very heart of things!
So, never looking at her, he told her his story.
She listened, half-fascinated by the virility of him, half-awed by the fact that she had pierced to his soul unthinkingly. She watched the fine-lined face, whose rare smiles swept away its harshness; the clear eyes that frowned into the blaze of afternoon sun; the firm, almost too firm, mouth and chin and nose.
And as she watched, harkening to his low words, the faintest trace of a smile touched her lips, though in her eyes there was only a great compassion.
"So, you see, you hit near home, Sara," he concluded. "What my great moment will be there is no telling; but if it were to come soon I would be afraid—yes, afraid to meet it, I think. Harcourt met his great moment with a clean heart, like the splendid man he was; but my little moments have not been so good, so open to all the world, so fearless and honest as his."
She was silent an instant; then, "But they have been strong, Hammer! And better a devil than a fool! No; when that great moment of yours arrives I think it will be one of power, not of failure; I would like to see what happens when it does come."
A sudden blaze outbroke in the man, and he turned; but the words on his lips were interrupted.
"'Ere! 'Ere! Dang it, you've been and passed the place!"