l'Hommadieus' history. And they know a streak of the tar brush when they
see it. They took your measure when they came here last year, and sized
you up fairly. So had I, for the matter of that, when I FIRST saw you.
And we compared notes. But the major is a square man, for all he is your
husband, and we reckoned he had a big enough contract on his hands to
take care of you and l'Hommadieu's half-breeds, and so"--he tossed the
reins contemptuously aside--"we kept this to ourselves."

"And now you want--what--eh?"

"We want an end to this foolery," he broke out roughly, stepping back
from the vehicle, and facing her suddenly, with his first angry gesture.
"We want an end to these airs and grimaces, and all this dandy nigger
business; we want an end to this 'cake-walking' through the wheat, and
flouting of the honest labor of your betters. We want you and your 'de
Fontanges' to climb down. And we want an end to this roping-in of white
folks to suit your little game; we want an end to your trying to mix
your nigger blood with any one here, and we intend to stop it. We draw
the line at the major."

Lashed as she had been by those words apparently out of all semblance of
her former social arrogance, a lower and more stubborn resistance seemed
to have sprung up in her, as she sat sideways, watching him with her set
smile and contracting eyes.

"Ah," she said dryly, "so SHE IS HERE. I thought so. Which of you is it,
eh? It's a good spec--Mallory's a rich man. She's not particular."

The man had stopped as if listening, his head turned towards the road.
Then he turned carelessly, and facing her again, waved his hand with a