But he had no such intention; he was keenly alive to his opportunity to show her that he was answerable to no one for his conduct.

He enjoyed her chagrin; he was moved to internal mirth over her impotent wrath; he took a savage delight in seeing her cringe from the evidence of his apparent brutality.

He grinned at her.
"He's dead, ain't he ?" he said.

"An' I ain't makin' no excuses to you!" She gave him a scornful glance and went over to Malcolm, who had clambered to his feet and was crouching, his face working with passion.
At the instant Betty reached him he was clawing at his six-shooter, trying to drag it from the holster.

But Betty's hand closed over his and he desisted.
"Not that, grandpa," she said quietly.