Pratt was in the position of the card-player, who, confronted by a
certain turn in the course of a game which he himself feels sure he is
bound to win, wonders whether he had better not expedite matters by
laying his cards on the table, and asking his opponent if he can
possibly beat their values and combination. He had carefully reckoned up
his own position more than once during the progress of recent events,
and the more carefully he calculated it the more he felt convinced that
he had nothing to fear. He had had to alter his ground in consequence of
the death of Harper Mallathorpe, and he had known that he would have to
fight Nesta. But he had not anticipated that hostilities would come so
soon, or begin with such evident determination on her part. How would it
be, then, at this first stage to make such a demonstration in force that
she would recognize his strength?
He looked up at last and saw Nesta regarding him sternly. But Pratt
smiled--the quiet smile which made her uneasy.
"Miss Mallathorpe!" he said. "I was thinking of two things just then--a
game at cards--and the science of warfare. In both it's a good thing
sometimes to let your adversary see what a strong hand you've got. Now,
then, a question, if you please--are you and I adversaries?"
"Yes!" answered Nesta unflinchingly. "You're acting like an enemy--you
are an enemy!"
"I've hoped that you and I would be friends--good friends," said Pratt,
with something like a sigh.
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