"I never had a pet. His conscience never told him to go back and take his punishment; it tortured him only in regard to the deed itself. With a cry of triumph, he rose, the sword hilt grasped in his fingers, the point swishing up towards her. She would write to Gerald. He did not so much cut into this conversation as loom over it, for he was a tall, if rather studiously stooping, man. Little by little, she stopped hating him. To use it as a passport to card-tables and gin-bottles! McClintock wasn't having any guests; at any rate, he had not mentioned the fact.
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