he brown tan of the flesh.
"This is a man's country. It's new--close to nature. What he wants he
takes--if he's strong enough. I'm elemental. I--"

"You wanted her--and you took her. Now you want me--and I suppose you'll
take me too." Her scornful words had the sting of a whiplash.

"I've lived as all men live who have red blood in them. This woman is an
incident. I've been aboveboard. She can't say I ever promised more than
I've given. I've kept her and the boy. It's been no secret. If you had
asked, I would have told you the whole story."

"Does that excuse you?"

"I don't need any excuse. I'm a man. That's excuse enough. You've been
brought up among a lot of conventions and social lies. The one big fact
you want to set your teeth into now is that I love you, that there isn't
another woman on God's earth for me, and that there never will be again."

Her eyes flashed battle. "The one big fact I'm facing is that you have
insulted me--that you insult me again when you mention love with that
woman and boy in the room. You belong to them--go to them--and leave
me alone." She had been fighting for self-control, to curb her growing
resentment, but now it flamed passionately into words. "I hate the sight
of you. Why don't you go--all of you--and leave me in peace?"

It was a cry of bruised pride and wounded love. Elliot touched the
Indian woman on the shoulder. Meteetse turned stolidly and walked out
of the room, still leading Colmac by the hand. The young man followed.

Macdonald closed the door behind them, then strode frowning up and down
the room. The fear was growing on him that for all his great driving
power he could not shake this slim girl from the view to which she
clung. If the situation had not been so serious, it would have struck
him as ridiculous. His relation with Meteetse had been natural enough.
He believed that he had acted very honorably to her. Many a man would
have left her in the lurch to take care of the youngster by herself. But
he had acknowledged his obligation. He was paying his debt scrupulously,
and because of it the story had risen to confront him. He felt that it
was an unjust blow of fate. Punishment was falling upon him, not for
what he had done, but because he had scorned to make a secret of it.

He knew that he must justify himself before Sheba or lose her. As she
stood in the dusk so tall and rigid, he knew her heart was steel to him.
Her finely chiseled face had the look of race. N