“I wish to return to the yacht, Captain Brack,” we heard her say. “Must I repeat that many times more?”
“No, no!” He did not look up, but we saw that he smiled. “It isn’t necessary. I have good ears.”
“Then why don’t you answer me?”
“Perhaps because it amused me to hear you speak. Your voice is a delight to the ear.”
By the flickering candlelight we saw that Miss Baldwin’s mouth and chin became very firm.
“I am quite certain you have been lying to me, Captain Brack,” she said quietly. “I don’t believe that Mr. Pitt suggested that I come up here. If he had he would have stayed here and not have gone on with the men into the hills, as you say he has done.”
Brack lifted his head.
“You hold a brief for Mr. Pitt, Miss Baldwin?” he laughed, looking at her closely. “Well, well; so there’s a certain interest in that pretty little head for Pitt, eh? Well well! Pitt, the writer—the ultra-civilized person! And I thought it was only Chanler I had to fear. But never mind.”
His playfulness vanished.
“You are in the North now, Miss Baldwin, and you will fall beneath the North’s just rule. Back there, in your civilized country, you have lived under a different standard. Back there the most handsome male, the best mannered, most prosperous, best dressed, might win you. Even a Mr. Pitt would have a chance. Back there women are attracted to a man because his head is carried a certain way, because he orders a dinner excellently, helps one into a cab in a pleasing manner. That’s not just, Miss Baldwin, not just. The nice man may not be the worthy man. But here—this is the North. The strong man wins here—only the strong man can win. Gold, women, everything. Life is primitive here, therefore just. And you are here now, and here you are going to stay. And here women fall to the strongest man. And that’s me, my dear, that’s me! Look at me.”