After he was gone he burst out in wrath.
"Why can't he act like a man?
I don't want anybody to snivel over me.
Suppose I _am_ to be shot this fall, what of it ?" This disgust and bitterness prepared him, strange to say, for his call upon Mary.

He entered the house, master of himself and the situation.
His nerves were like steel, and his stern face did not quiver in its minutest muscle, though she met him in most gracious mood, dressed as for conquest and very beautiful.
"I'm so glad you stayed over," she said.

"I have been so eager to hear all about your life out there." She led the way to the little parlor once more and drew a chair near him.
"Well," he began, "it isn't exactly the kind of life your Mr.King leads." There was a vengeful sneer in his voice which Mary felt as if he had struck her, but she said gently: "I suppose our life does seem very tame to you now." "It's sure death.

I couldn't stand it for a year; I'd rot." Mary was aware that some sinister change had come over him, and she paused to study him keenly.

The tremulous quality of his voice and action had passed away.