Whispering Smith
are a woman and a pure one, and I care more for you than for all the other women in the world, and it is not your nature to be unforgiving.”
“It is to be honest.”
He looked suddenly up at her and spoke sharply: “Marion, I know why you won’t go.”
“I have honestly told you.”
“No; you have not honestly told me. The real reason is Gordon Smith.”
“If he were I should not hesitate to tell you, Murray, but he is not,” she said coldly.
Sinclair spoke harshly: “Do you think you can fool me? Don’t you suppose I know he spends his time loafing around your shop?”
Marion flushed indignantly. “It is not true!”
“Don’t you suppose I know he writes letters back to Wisconsin to your folks?”
“What have I to do with that? Why shouldn’t he write to my mother? Who has a better right?”
“Don’t drive me too far. By God! if I go away alone I’ll never leave you here to run off with Whispering Smith—remember that!” She sat in silence. His rage left her perfectly quiet, and her unmoved expression shamed and in part silenced him. “Don’t drive me too far,” he muttered sullenly. “If you do you will be responsible, Marion.”
She did not move her eyes from the blue hills
254
