"It isn't Jack?" she pleaded. "It isn't Jack that you've fought with?"
And he said to himself: "She loves him with all her heart and soul!"
"It is he," said Donnegan in an agony. Pain may be like a fire that tempers some strong men; and now Donnegan, because he was in torment, smiled, and his eye was as cold as steel.
The girl flung away his hands.
"You bought murderer!" she cried at him.
"He is not dead."
"But you shot him down!"
"He attacked me; it was self-defense."
She broke into a low-pitched, mirthless laughter. Where was the filmy-eyed girl he had known? The laughter broke off short—like a sob.
"Don't you suppose I've known?" she said. "That I've read my father? That I knew he was sending a bloodhound when he sent you? But, oh, I thought you had a touch of the other thing!"