"Ridiculous!" said Forbes. "That's just the trouble with you, Huber: you're going about making wild, unfounded statements like this."
"I ought not to tell even you two," Luke answered; "but the fact is, I have letters written by one of these men that will substantiate every word I say."
"You mean they'll show these people owned the road?"
"Practically, and ordered the poor rails that caused that wreck."
"Absurd: they couldn't do that. They didn't operate the road. This sort of thing is what is upsetting legitimate business: a few men going on the way you are. I don't think these people at the top are any better than they should be—I've often said so to you—but you can't go around calling them murderers. That's ridiculous."
Before Luke could reply, Betty again shifted the issue.
"Luke, you won't do it?" she appealed. "You'll give it up—for father's sake?"
He started to speak, but she dropped her father's hand and came to him with hers upraised.
"No," she said; "don't tell me now. Don't say anything now. Don't speak. You'll only be sorry. You're hurt and angry. Of course, you are. Go away. Wait. Go away just for to-night and think it over, and come back to-morrow." Her hand crept into his. "I know it's awfully hard for you to give it all up, even for a few years. I know what it means to you. Don't think I don't know, Luke. But——" She looked into his face. "Please, dear?"
His face was set.