"Not he!" The deep voice held unutterable contempt. "He wanted to make
his fortune out of you, that's all. He didn't care whether you lived or
died, the damn' cur!"

She shrank at the fierce words, and was instantly aware of the jealous
closing of his arms about her.

"You aren't going to break your heart for a dirty swab like that," he
said, with more of insistence than interrogation in his voice. "Look you
here, Columbine! You're too honest to care for a beast like that.
Why--though I pulled him out of the quicksand and saved him from the
sea--I'd have wrung his neck if he'd stayed another day. I would that."

She started at the fiery declaration, and raised her head. "Oh, it was
you who sent him away, then?"

Her look held almost desperate entreaty for a moment, but he met it with
the utmost grimness and it quickly died.

"I didn't then," he said, with rough simplicity. "He made up his mind
without any help from me. He knew he couldn't face you again. It's not a
mite of good trying to deceive yourself now you know the truth. He's
gone, and he won't come back. Columbine, don't tell me as you want him
to!"

His expression for the moment was formidable. She caught an ominous
gleam in the stern eyes, but almost immediately they softened. He
uttered a sigh that ended in a groan. "Now I'm being a brute to you,
when there's nothing that I wouldn't do for your sake." His voice shook