“You told me half,” said Lovel. A hope pricked at his heart that Daisy’s story might be false. “She has told me herself,” he added.
Olver was quite sure now that his brother would kill him for this and for going to the Waggon of Hay,—for the two things together. He looked at Nicholas with his shifty blue eyes so oddly rimmed with black, and shuffled one foot over the other, but Nicholas’ eyes held him and asked for the truth.
“Well ...” he muttered.
“You had her?” said Lovel without mercy.
“And why not?” burst out Olver. “All the boys do,—yes, and brag about it. Look at Peg Lackland, going....”
“All right,” said Lovel, with the same quietness; “I’m not blaming you.” Not blaming him? had the world stopped going round? “Only if you ever tell any one this I shall kill you,—do you quite understand?”
Olver stared, but with Nicco’s threat stability and familiarity seemed to be returning in some degree to his world. He nodded his head.
“I’m going to marry Daisy Morland myself,” added Lovel, still fixing him with his eyes, “and I can’t have it said that she has ever gone with my brother. You understand that, don’t you?”
“Going to marry Daisy Morland? but Miss Warrener ...” began Olver.
“Miss Warrener is going to marry Mr. Calladine,” said Lovel steadily; “that has nothing to do with me, except that she was always civil to me when I met her on the Downs. I know my standing, and Miss Warrener knows hers. She marries a gentleman, and I marry a farmer’s girl; that’s as it should be.”