"You asked ... Jill ... to marry you?"
"Why not?" ... At the sound of his voice the other wheeled round suddenly—"What's it got to do with you?"
And in a flash the friendship of years crumbled up—here were rivals! They faced each other, primitive men, ready to fight for the sake of a woman.
"Look here—McTaggart"—Bethune came back to where the former still sat, elbows resting on the table, one hand gripping the "A.B.C."—"There's no need to speak like that! I've played fair. By God—I have!"
His square face was livid with passion. A steady accumulation of wrath—the slow and deadly anger that lurks under strong control in a man of his type—was surging up and breaking bounds. "You've got to listen. It's my turn now. By heavens, I've been patient enough..."
"Go on." McTaggart was watching him, his mouth hard. It was a challenge.
Bethune's stormy eyes flashed at the faint contempt in the words.
"I will." He stood there, very erect, a curious dignity about him that added to the suggestion of power in the strong, heavily built figure.
"You went away, out of England—an engaged man—so I understood—intending to marry Miss Cadell." His gaze never left McTaggart.
"Well—it's no earthly business of mine whether you meant it—you said you did. But you never gave a thought to Jill—or any of us left behind. For months and months—save a few cards to tell me where to forward your letters! And I got—somehow—into the way of seeing a lot of ... the Uniackes. They were—all of them—awfully kind. And when this last trouble came—this Suffrage business with the Mother—it was to me Jill turned—and I helped her ... well, all I could. I was up there most evenings while Mrs. Uniacke was in prison"—he paused for a second and went on huskily—"I thought ... Jill ... liked me a bit....