The other shook his massive head.
"I have—she has refused."
"Then why in thunder do you come to me?"
The angry light was again in the rancher's bloodshot eyes.
"Why? Because she will marry me if you choose. She can't refuse—she dare not."
"Then, by God, I'll refuse for her—"
He paused disconcertedly in his wrath. Lablache's cold eyes fixed him with their icy stare.
"Very well, John," said Lablache, with a contemptuous shrug. "You know the inevitable result of such a hasty decision. It means ruin to you—beggary to that poor child." His teeth snapped viciously. Then he smiled with his mouth. "I can only put your de—refusal down to utter, unworthy selfishness."
"Not selfishness, Lablache—not that. I would sacrifice everything in the world for that child—"
"Except your own pleasure—your own personal comforts. Bah, man!" with scathing contempt, "your object must be plain to the veriest fool. You do not wish to lose her. You fear to lose your best servant lest in consequence you find the work of the ranch thrust upon your own hands. You would have no time to indulge your love of play. You would no longer be able to spend three parts of your time in 'old man' Smith's filthy bar. Your conduct is laudable, John—it is worthy of you."