An' be ready to ride!" "Lassiter!" cried Jane.
Desperately she tried to meet his gray eyes, in vain, desperately she tried again, fought herself as feeling and thought resurged in torment, and she succeeded, and then she knew.
"No--no--no!" she wailed.

"You said you'd foregone your vengeance.

You promised not to kill Bishop Dyer." "If you want to talk to me about him--leave off the Bishop.

I don't understand that name, or its use." "Oh, hadn't you foregone your vengeance on--on Dyer?
"Yes." "But--your actions--your words--your guns--your terrible looks!...

They don't seem foregoing vengeance ?" "Jane, now it's justice." "You'll--kill him ?" "If God lets me live another hour! If not God--then the devil who drives me!" "You'll kill him--for yourself--for your vengeful hate ?" "No!" "For Milly Erne's sake ?" "No." "For little Fay's ?" "No!" "Oh--for whose ?" "For yours!" "His blood on my soul!" whispered Jane, and she fell to her knees.
This was the long-pending hour of fruition.