Ghost [reflectively]. Yes, I'm afraid we both stood up pretty poorly alongside him. I had the words, the brain, the idea. I could charm her, tantalize her, quicken her mind, arouse her imagination. That's why I cut you out with her.
Lon [sneeringly]. Gab!
Ghost. Yes, gab. It was one better to her than mere brute—guts! You personified strength. You didn't have nerves enough to be afraid of anything. You had endurance, cheek, deviltry, and a kind of raw good nature. These took with the gay, immature girl she was, until I came. You had—Guts; I had—Gab.
Lon. And the Other Feller?
Ghost. He had the Gift.
Lon. What you mean?
Ghost. He was a full man. His personality exuded from him like incense. It wrapped and enfolded you and warmed you, and yet it was not a grain feminine, but deeply, proudly masculine. You tolerated him, I—loved him. I had the fine passion for Padie, but when I first saw the two of them together I knew she was his, or [with a keen, stern look at Lon] ought to be ... and she has been, always.
Lon [jumping to his feet, and knocking over his chair]. You lie like hell! She's mine! She's been mine all these three years! I won her and I own her! What little of love she ever had fer you or him is buried down in Laguna Madre with the bones of both of ye! And all hell can't take her from me!
Ghost [rising tall and pale]. He kin, and he's done it! You thought you'd got her. But he's had her, or rather, she's had him in her heart ever since they took the rope from his neck and pronounced him legally dead, and justice vindicated, and laid him away in the desert. All that time since, he's belonged to her. When you laid by her side nights, it was his arm she felt about her waist, not yours; his breath was on her cheek, and his heart was beating against hers. Oh you poor, poor fool!
Lon [throwing his glass straight at the ghost]. You lyin' pup!