“Early Morn was the best-looking Indian girl I ever saw,” said Erskine, “and the bravest.” For the first time Grey glanced at Barbara. “She saved my life,” Erskine went on gravely, “and mine is hers whenever she needs it.” Harry reached over and gripped his hand.
As yet not one word had been said of Grey’s misdoing, but Barbara’s cool disdain made him shamed and hot, and in her eyes was the sorrow of her injustice to Erskine. In the hallway she excused herself with a courtesy, Hugh went to the stables, Harry disappeared for a moment, and the two were left alone. With smouldering fire Erskine turned to Grey.
“It seems you have been amusing yourself with my kinspeople at my expense.” Grey drew himself up in haughty silence. Erskine went on:
“I have known some liars who were not cowards.”
“You forget yourself.”
“No—nor you.”
“You remember a promise I made you once?”
“Twice,” corrected Erskine. Grey’s eyes flashed upward to the crossed rapiers on the wall.
“Precisely,” answered Erskine, “and when?”
“At the first opportunity.”