She begged him not to stir it up until Valentine was well enough to have a finger in it.
"You may not think him very clever," she said, "but even you will admit that he shoots straight, and has courage."
"I will admit anything in his favour," replied Hemming, "but as for his shooting, why, thank Heaven, I have never tested it."
"Wasn't he very rude to you one night?" she asked.
He laughed quietly. "The circumstances warranted it, but he was rude to the wrong person, don't you think?"
"No, indeed," she cried, "for no matter how minus a quantity your guilt, or how full of fault I had been, it would never have done for him to threaten me with a—" She paused.
"Service revolver?" said Hemming, "and one of my own at that."
"Fever is a terrible thing," she said, gazing at the red heart of the claret.
"My dear sister," said the Englishman, "a man would gladly suffer more to win less."
They smiled frankly into one another's eyes.