"You dog," he whispered. "Did you listen at the door when Nick was here?"
"Me?" murmured George. "No, I just been thinking."
And so it was that while Donnegan went down the hill with Lou Macon, carrying an empty-chambered revolver, George followed at a distance of a few paces, and he carried a loaded weapon unknown to Donnegan.
It was the dull time of the day in The Corner. There were very few people in the single street, and though most of them turned to look at the little man and the girl who walked beside him, not one of them either smiled or whispered.
"You see?" said Donnegan. "You would have been perfectly safe—even from Lord Nick's ruffians. That was one of his men we passed back there."
"Yes. I'm safe with you," said the girl.
And when she looked up to him, the blood of Donnegan turned to fire.
Out of a shop door before them came a girl with a parcel under her arm. She wore a gay, semi-masculine outfit, bright-colored, jaunty, and she walked with a lilt toward them. It was Nelly Lebrun. And as she passed them. Donnegan lifted his hat ceremoniously high. She nodded to him with a smile, but the smile aimed wan and small in an instant. There was a quick widening and then a narrowing of her eyes, and Donnegan knew that she had judged Lou Macon as only one girl can judge another who is lovelier.
He glanced at Lou to see if she had noticed, and he saw her raise her head and go on with her glance proudly straight before her; but her face was very pale, and Donnegan knew that she had guessed everything that was true and far more than the truth. Her tone at the door of the post office was ice.
"I think you are right, Mr. Donnegan. There's no danger. And if you have anything else to do, I can get back home easily enough."