"I shot a man."
"Ah!" said Kate. "You shot a man?" It seemed to silence her. "Why,
Terry?"
"He had killed my father," he explained, more softly than ever.
"I know. It was Minter. And they turned you out for that?"
There was a trembling intake of her breath. He could catch the sparkle of her eyes, and knew that she had flown into one of her sudden, fiery passions. And it warmed his heart to hear her.
"I'd like to know what kind of people they are, anyway! I'd like to meet up with that Elizabeth Cornish, the—"
"She's the finest woman that ever breathed," said Terry simply.
"You say that," she pondered slowly, "after she sent you away?"
"She did only what she thought was right. She's a little hard, but very just, Kate."
She was shaking her head; the hair had become a dull and wonderful gold in the faint moonshine.