“Cardy!” she exclaimed. “You’re not serious? You don’t really mean to——?”
“Of course I am serious.”
“But—you can’t—you mustn’t!”
“I can and will. There is no going back now. Please.”
But she barred his way.
“No—no—no! I forbid you.”
“Please.”
“Oh, but you’re joking—joking! You couldn’t shoot him—not for that. Besides, you wouldn’t know which end of the pistol to hold.”
A man who is playing a part senior to his years will generally give himself away on a detail. It was sheer youthful arrogance when he drew from his pocket the target he had decorated that afternoon, and cast it on the table before her.
“I did this at fifteen paces,” he said.