“Yes,” and Breckenridge smiled, “I did. I also prevented my companion shooting one of your friends, as he seemed quite anxious to do. I don’t wish to hurt your feelings, sir, but I have not the least regret for anything I did that night.”
“Then, you are still very bitter against me?”
Breckenridge considered. “No, sir. The one man I am bitter against is Clavering. Now, it may sound presumptuous, and not come very well from me, but I believe that Clavering, for his own purposes, forced your hand, and I had a certain respect for you, if only because of your thoroughness. You see, one can’t help realizing that you can look at every question quite differently.”
Torrance smiled drily. “Then if you are not too proud to be my guest to-night, I should be glad of your company and will find you a horse to take you back to Fremont when it suits you.”
Breckenridge, for some reason that was not very apparent, seemed pleased to agree, but a faint smile just showed in Torrance’s eyes when he went out again. Then, he turned to Miss Schuyler.
“I wonder what Mr. Clavering has done to win everybody’s dislike,” he said. “You do not seem anxious to plead for him.”
Flora Schuyler’s face grew almost vindictive. “No,” she said, “I don’t. I can, however, mention one thing I find it difficult to forgive him. When you promised him Hetty he had found favour with her maid, and made the most of the fact. It was not flattering to your daughter or my friend. He may not have told you that he promised to marry her.”
Torrance stared at her a moment, a dark flush rising to his forehead. “You are quite sure?”
“Ask the girl,” said Flora Schuyler.
Torrance struck the bell again, and waited until the maid came in. “I understand Mr. Clavering promised to marry you,” he said very quietly. “You would be willing to take him?”