Roger interrupted with a snarl. His arms waved convulsively.
"Lift me up," he commanded. "I can't do it myself. Prop me up a bit against the pillows. . . . Oh, get on with it, man!" he cried, as Barry hesitated. "Nothing you do can either help or hurt me. Lift me up!"
Obediently Barry stooped and with a touch as strong as a man's and as tender as a woman's, lifted Roger into the desired position.
"Thanks." Roger blurted out the word ungraciously. "Well, what about Nan?" he went on, scowling. "I suppose you've come to ask me to let her off? That's the natural thing! Is that it?" he asked sharply.
"Yes," answered Barry simply. "That's it."
Rogers face went white with anger.
"Then you may tell her," he said, pounding the bed with his fist to emphasise his words, "tell her from me that I haven't the least intention of releasing her. She's a contemptible little coward even to suggest it. But that's a woman all over!"
"It's nothing of the sort," returned Barry, roused to indignation by Roger's brutal answer. He spoke with a quiet forcefulness there was no mistaking. "Nan knows nothing whatever about my visit here, nor the purpose of it. On the contrary, had she known, I'm quite sure she would have tried to prevent my coming, seeing that she has made up her mind to marry you as soon as you wish."
"Oh, she has, has she?" Roger paused grimly. A moment later he broke out: "Then—then—what the devil right have you to interfere?"
"None," said Barry gravely. "Except the right of one man to remind another of his manhood—if he sees him in danger of losing it."