ot true!" he shouted. "It's a lie. Ha, Ha." Switzer's laugh
was full of incredulous scorn. "Engaged? And how do YOU know?" He swung
fiercely upon her, his eyes glaring out of a face ghastly white.

"I am sorry I said anything, Mr. Switzer. It was not my business to
speak of it," said Jane quietly. "But I thought you knew."

Gradually the thing seemed to reach his mind. "Your business?" he said.
"What difference whose business it is? It is not true. I say it is not
true. How do you know? Tell me. Tell me. Tell me." He seized her by the
arm, and at each "Tell me" shook her violently.

"You are hurting me, Mr. Switzer," said Jane.

He dropped her arm. "Then, my God, will you not tell me? How do you
know?"

"Mr. Switzer, believe me it is true," said Jane, trying to speak
quietly, though she was shaking with excitement and terror. "Mr. Romayne
told me, they all told me, Kathleen told me. It is quite true, Mr.
Switzer."

He stared at her as if trying to take in the meaning of her words, then
glared around him like a hunted animal seeking escape from a ring of
foes, then back at her again. There were workmen passing close to them
on the path, but he saw nothing of them. Jane was looking at his ghastly
face. She was stricken with pity for him.

"Shall we walk on this way?" she said, touching his arm.

He shook off her touch but followed her away from the busy track of
the workers, along a quieter path among the trees. Sheltered from
observation, she slowed her steps and turned towards him.

"She loves him?" he said in a low husky voice. "You say she loves him?"

"Yes, Mr. Switzer, she loves him," said Jane. "She cannot help herself.
No one can help one's self. You must not blame her for that, Mr.
Switzer."

"She does not love me," said Switzer as if stunned by the utterly
inexplicable phenomenon. "But she did once," he cried. "She did before
that schwein came." No words could describe the hate and contempt in
his voice. He appeared to concentrate his passions struggling for
expression, love, rage, hate, wounded pride, into one single stream of
fury. Grinding his teeth, foaming, sputtering, he poured forth his words
in an impetuous torrent.

"He stole her from me! this schwein of an Englishman! He came like a
thief, like a dog and a dog's son and stole her! She was mine! She would
have been mine! She loved me! She was learning to love me. I was too
quick with her once, but she had forgiven me and was learning to lo