"What do you know about my intentions?" demanded Duncan.

"Much more than you imagine," retorted Peter. "I've got your record,
McKail, and I've had it for three years. I've stood by, until now; but
the time has come when I'm going to have a hand in this thing. And
you're not going to get your freedom by dragging this woman's name
through a divorce-court. If there's any dragging to be done, it's
your carcass that's going to be tied to the tail-board!"

Duncan stood studying him with a face cheese-colored with hate.

"Aren't you rather double-crossing yourself?" he mocked.

"I'm not thinking about myself," said Peter.

"Then what's prompting all the heroics?" demanded Duncan.

"For two years and more, McKail," Peter cried out as he stepped closer
to the other man, "you've given this woman a pretty good working idea
of hell. And I've seen enough of it. It's going to end. It's got to
end. But it's not going to end the way you've so neatly figured out!"

"Then how do you propose to end it?" Duncan demanded, with a sort of
second-wind of composure. But his face was still colorless.

"You'll see when the time comes," retorted Peter.

"You may have rather a long wait," taunted Duncan.

"I have waited a number of years," answered the other man, with a
dignity which sent a small thrill up and down my spine. "And I can
wait a number of years more if I have to."

"We all knew, of course, that you were waiting," sneered my husband.

Peter turned to fling back an answer to that, but I stepped between
them. I was tired of being haggled over, like marked-down goods on a
bargain-counter. I was tired of being a passive agent before forces
that seemed stripping me of my last shred of dignity. I was tired of
the shoddiness of the entire shoddy situation.

And I told them so. I told them I'd no intention of being bargained
over, and that I'd had rather enough of men for the rest of my natural
life, and if Duncan wanted his freedom he was at liberty to take it
without the slightest opposition from me. And I said a number of other
things, which I have no wish either to remember or record. But it
resulted in Duncan staring at me in a resurrection-plant sort of way,
and in Peter rather dolorously taking his departure. I wanted to call
him back, but I couldn't carpenter together any satisfactory excuse
for his coming back, and I couldn't see any use in it.

So instead of journeying happily homeward in the cavernous old
prairie-s