"Also," I added, with a sudden resurgance of bitterness that surprised myself, "my conduct earlier in your behalf might have led you to a wiser judgment."
"I am wise enough—after my own fashion," she said indifferently.
"Does a man save and then return to destroy?"
"Many a hunter has saved many a spotted fawn from wolf and fox—so he might kill it himself, one day."
"You do yourself much flattery, young woman," I said, so unpleasantly that again the hot colour touched her throat and brow.
"I reason as I have been taught," she said defiantly. "Doubtless you are self-instructed."
"No; men have taught me. You witnessed, I believe, one lesson. And your comrade gave me still another."
"I care to witness nothing," I said, furious; "far less desire to attempt your education. Is all plain now?"
"Your words are," she said, with quiet contempt.
"My words are one with my intention," said I, angrily; far in spite of my own indifference and contempt, hers was somehow arousing me with its separate sting hidden in every word she uttered. "And now," I continued, "all being plain and open between us, let me acquaint you with the sole object of my visit here to you."