"For your own sake, Mr. Donnegan."
"Ah, don't you suppose that I know?" And his voice touched her. "He came to kill me. And no doubt he could have done so."
Such frankness shocked her into a new attention.
Perhaps Donnegan overdid his part a little at this point, for in her heart of hearts she knew that the little man would a thousand times rather die than give way to any living man.
"But I threw my case bodily before him—the girl—her love for Landis—and the fear which revolved around your own unruly eyes, you know, if he were sent back to your father's house. I placed it all before him. At first he was for fighting at once. But the story appealed to him. He pitied the girl. And in the end he decided to let the matter be judged by a third person. He suggested a man. But I know that a man would see in my attitude nothing but foolishness. No man could have appreciated the position of that girl on the hill. I myself named another referee—yourself."
She gasped.
"And so I have come to place the question before you, because I know that you will decide honestly."
"Then I shall be honest," said the girl.
She was thinking: Why not have Landis back? It would keep the three men revolving around her. Landis on his feet and well would have been nothing; either of these men would have killed him. But Landis sick she might balance in turn against them both. Nelly had the instincts of a fencer; she loved balance.
But Donnegan was heaping up his effects. For by the shadow in her eyes he well knew what was passing through her mind, and he dared not let her speak too quickly.