“Lee—listen!” returned General Lodge, violently. “Neale is a splendid young man—the nerviest, best engineer I ever knew. I predicted great things for him. They have come true.”
“That doesn’t interest me.”
“You’ll hear it, anyhow. He saved the life of this girl who has turned out to be your daughter. He took care of her. He loved her—was engaged to marry her.... Then he lost her. And after that he was half mad. It nearly ruined him.”
“I do not credit that. It was gambling, drink—and bad women that ruined him.”
“No!”
“But, pardon me, General. If—as you intimate—there was an attachment between him and my unfortunate child, would he have become an associate of gamblers and vicious women?”
“He would not. The nature of his fury, the retribution he visited upon this damned Spaniard, prove the manner of man he is.”
“Wild indeed. But hardly from a sense of loyalty. These camps breed blood-spillers. I heard you say that.”
“You’ll hear me say something more, presently,” retorted the other, with heat scarcely controlled. “But we’re wasting time. I don’t insist that you see Neale. That’s your affair. It seems to me the least you could do would be to thank him. I certainly advise you not to offer him gold. I do insist, however, that you let him see the girl!”
“No!”