He had overlooked, he had forgiven, he had loved and he had forgotten; and now, out of the mystery of a dying man's whisper rose again that perverse, unsatisfied, jealous uncertainty.

Bess had loved that splendid, black-crowned giant--by her own confession she had loved him; and in Venters's soul again flamed up the jealous hell.

Then into the clamoring hell burst the shot that had killed Oldring, and it rang in a wild fiendish gladness, a hateful, vengeful joy.

That passed to the memory of the love and light in Oldring's eyes and the mystery in his whisper.

So the changing, swaying emotions fluctuated in Venters's heart.
This was the climax of his year of suffering and the crucial struggle of his life.