e bottle.

"You were saying--?" Pell went on. He poured himself a stiff drink.
"Something about leaving me, wasn't it?" It was plain to be seen that he
was bluffing. "I'm sorry," swigging down what he had poured, "but I wasn't
listening very closely. This thing here--" he tapped his wound. No one
answered him, and he set down his glass. "Well?" to his wife.

She faced him with a flame in her eyes. "Had I known you, I never would
have married you. But now that I do know you, I could never live with you
again. I loathe and despise you, with all the strength that is in me."

"You want to leave me, eh?" He sneered as he stared at her. "And go with
him?... Won't your reputation--?"

"What do I care for my reputation?" she flared. "At least I shall have my
self-respect. I never could keep that if I went back to you."

"It's _your_ reputation, of course," Pell smiled. "You can do as you like
with it." He turned fully toward her. "All right, I've no objection."

"You're lying," Gilbert affirmed.

Pell's tongue rolled round in his cheek. "I don't blame you for thinking
so. _You_ haven't been shot to-day. You should try it sometime. It changes
one's viewpoint surprisingly." His voice seemed to lose its hardness for a
moment; there was a note of self-pity in it.

"But you said--" Gilbert began.

Pell's whole manner changed, and the look of a wounded animal came into his
eyes. "A man says many things in anger that he doesn't mean," was his own
extenuation. "Haven't you ever made the same mistake yourself, Jones? I'm
sure you have. There's no use getting excited." He put up a hand. "Here we
are, we three. She is my wife. But she doesn't love me, nor do I love her.
She does love you. What is the best way out for all of us?"

A new Morgan Pell! They could scarcely believe the metamorphosis.

"You'd give her up?" Gilbert said.

The other looked down, and the point of his boot drew a little ring on the
floor. "I can't hold her," he said, "if she doesn't want to be held, can
I?"

"You don't intend--"

"To fight you?" Pell looked him squarely in the eye. "I do not. I've had
all the fighting I want for one day. Now, my own course is simple. I have
merely to go back to New York and forget that either of you ever existed.
But your problem is more difficult. It's after eight. You've lost the
ranch. And you have no money."

"But I can earn money," Gilbert said.

"A hundred dollars a month punching cows? With her in a boarding