“Of course not. How careless of me! I had forgotten you were in mourning for a deceased friend.”
His dark eyes flashed. “I’ll not mourn for him long. He was a mighty trifling fellow, anyhow. Soon as I catch and hang his murderers I’ll quit wearing black.”
“You may wear out several suits before then,” she hit back.
“Don’t y’u believe it; when I want a thing I don’t quit till it’s done.”
She met his gaze, and the impact of eyes seemed to shock her physically. The wickedness in him threatened, gloated, dominated. She shivered in the warm sunlight, and would not have had him know it for worlds.
“Dear me! How confident you talk. Aren’t you sometimes disappointed?”
“Temporarily. But when I want a thing I take it in the end.”
She knew he was serving notice on her that he meant to win her; and again the little spinal shiver raced over her. She could not look at his sardonic, evil face without fear, and she could not look away without being aware of his eyes possessing her. What was the use of courage against such a creature as this?
“Yes, I understand you take a good deal that isn’t yours,” she retorted carelessly, her eyes on the arena.
“I make it mine when I take it,” he answered coolly, admiring the gameness which she wore as a suit of chain armor against his thrusts.