The big sailor glared at her.
“I just left Martin. He’s sick.”
“I know.” Deane looked away.
“I’d help him, Mrs. Idara. But he don’t need me.”
“He doesn’t need anyone but himself, Rio.”
“He needs a good woman,” answered Rio coldly.
Deane looked straight at him.
“That is—a stupid one?” she asked.
For a moment Rio stared at her helplessly.
“You’re right,” he said at last. “I can’t talk. But Mrs. Idara, Martin ain’t the first to break his neck over a woman—only mine died, and her skin wasn’t your color.”