He had long ago made
up his mind that Lora Delane Porter, though an entertaining woman and,
on the whole, more worth while than a moving-picture show, was quite
mad; but, he felt, even lunatics ought to realize that there is a limit
to what they may say.
He moaned protestingly, and rashly, for he drew the speaker's attention
upon himself.
"This person," went on Mrs. Porter, indicating Steve with a wave of her
hand which caused him to sidestep swiftly and throw up an arm, as had
been his habit in the ring when Battling Dick or Fighting Jack
endeavoured to blot him out with a right swing, "who, I observe,
retains the tattered relics of a conscience, seeing that he winces, you
employed to do the only dangerous part of your dirty work. I hope he
will see that he gets his money. In his place I should be feeling
uneasy."
"Ma'am!" protested Steve.
Mrs. Porter silenced him with a gesture.
"Be quiet!" she said.
Steve was quiet.
Mrs. Porter returned to Kirk.
Of all her burning words, Kirk had not heard one. His eyes had never
left Ruth's. Like her, he was trying to read a message from a face that
seemed only cold. In this crisis of their two lives he had no thought
for anybody but her. He had a sense of great issues, of being on the
verge of the tremendous; but his brain felt numbed and heavy.
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