“All right, Mis——”
“No.”
“Tresler, si——”
“No.”
“All right, Tresler,” said the old man, in a strangely husky voice.
Diane was confronting her lover for the last interview. Mrs. Osler had discreetly left them, and now they were sitting in the diminutive parlor, the man, at the girl’s expressed wish, sitting as far from her as the size of the room would permit. All his cheeriness had deserted him and a decided frown marred the open frankness of his face.
Diane, herself, looked a little older than when we saw her last at the ranch. The dark shadows round her pretty eyes were darker, and her face looked thinner and paler, while her eyes shone with a feverish brightness.
“You overruled my decision once, Jack,” she was saying in a low tone that she had difficulty in keeping steady, “but this time it must not be.”
“Well, look here, Danny, I can give you just an hour in which to ease your mind, but I tell you candidly, after that you’ll have to say ‘yes,’ in spite of all your objections. So fire away. Here’s the watch. I’m going to time you.”