"
She gave it to him straight, her blue eyes fixed steadily on him.
Yet she was not prepared for the effect of her words. The last
thing she had expected was to see the blood wash out of his
bronzed face, to see his sensitive nostrils twitch with pain. He
made her feel as if she had insulted him, as if she had been
needlessly cruel. And because of it she hardened her heart. Why
should she spare him the mention of it? He had not hesitated at
the shameless deed itself. Why should she shrink before that
wounded look that leaped to his fine eyes in that flash of time
before he hardened them to steel?
"You did it--didn't you?" she demanded.
"That's what they say." His gaze met her defiantly.
"And it is true, isn't it?"
"Oh, anything is true of a man that herds sheep," he returned,
bitterly.
"If that is true it would not be possible for you to understand
how much I despise you."
"Thank you," he retorted, ironically.
"I don't understand at all. I don't see how you can be the man
they say you are. Before I met you it was easy to understand. But
somehow--I don't know--you don't LOOK like a villain." She found
herself strangely voicing the deep hope of her heart.
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