"In your own," she repeated. "Of course, I do not know how men feel, and what the best may say at times about—about a woman. But could you not let it drop, instead of resuming it here, on this ship, where I am a passenger?"
"Please explain. You let me drop, Miss Morton, when I needed you; but I have not complained. It seems that the slightest inquiry must have apprised you of my extremity. It seems that something might have been done that would not compromise you."
It was her turn to be mystified. "What do you mean?" she asked. "Do you deny me dignity, self-respect, pride, or confidence in myself? Could I inquire about a man who had taken advantage of my momentary weakness and boasted of it? Not only boasted, but threatened to a member of my family that he would follow up his advantage for revenge at a beating?"
"Boasted! Revenge at a beating! Grace, explain yourself. You are accusing me of something. What is it? Boasting that I kissed you?"
"That," she said, looking defiantly into my face, while two red spots came to her cheeks. "That, and threatening my brother, after your defeat at his hands, with making your mastery complete."
"The damnable scoundrel!" I said explosively. "Did he tell you that lie? Did he say that he defeated me?"
"I saw him getting the best of you," she said, with a little doubt in her face.
"Because I did not want to hurt your brother. Did you turn in an alarm?"
"Yes."
"Before the firemen came your brother had got away from me and ran. Then I, remaining to extinguish the fire, was arrested for causing it."