“Yes.” The face of the engineer flushed. “It was a complete surprise to me. I had thought my feelings wouldn’t matter because she would never find out about them. When she did—and told me that she—cared for me, I had to tell her where I stand.”
“Just where do you stand?”
“I can’t marry. You must know why.”
Clint flicked the whip and the young team speeded. When he had steadied them to a more sedate pace, he spoke. “I reckon I do. But—you’ve given it up, haven’t you?”
“Yes.” He qualified the affirmative. “I’m not the first man who thought he’d given it up and hadn’t.”
“Got doubts about it, have you?”
“No. I think I’m done with the cursed stuff. But how do I know?” Tug went into details as to the nature of the disease. He finished with a sentence that was almost a cry. “I’d rather see her dead than married to a victim of that habit.”
“What did Betty say to that?”
“What I’d expect her to say. She wouldn’t believe there was any danger. Wouldn’t have it for a minute. You know how generous she is. Then, when I insisted on it, she seemed to think it was an excuse and walked out of the room. I haven’t seen her since. She wouldn’t let me have a chance.”
“I don’t see as there’s much you could say—unless you’re aimin’ to renig.” Reed’s voice took on a trace of resentment. “Seems to me, young fellow, it was up to you not to let things get as far as they did between you an’ Betty. That wasn’t hardly a square deal for her. You get her to tell you how she feels to you, an’ then you turn her down. I don’t like that a-tall.”