In the shabby little room he
seemed to have grown suddenly taller. He struck the crazy table
with his clenched fist so that the crockery upon it rattled.
Pritchard was used to seeing men--strong men, too--moved by
various passions, but in Tavernake's face he seemed to see new
things.
"Pritchard," Tavernake exclaimed, "I don't want to hear another
word!"
Pritchard smiled.
"Look here," he said, "what I am going to tell you is the truth.
What I am going to tell you I'd as soon say in the presence of
the lady as here."
Tavernake took a step forward and Pritchard suddenly realized the
man who had thrown himself through that little opening in the
wall, one against three, without a thought of danger.
"If you say a single word more against her," Tavernake shouted
hoarsely, "I shall throw you out of the room!"
Pritchard stared at him. There was something amazing about this
young man's attitude, something which he could not wholly grasp.
He could see, too, that Tavernake's words were so few simply
because he was trembling under the influence of an immense
passion.
"If you won't listen," Pritchard declared, slowly, "I can't talk.
Still, you've got common sense, I take it. You've the ordinary
powers of judging between right and wrong, and knowing when a man
or a woman's honest. I want to save you--"
"Silence!" Tavernake exclaimed. "Look here, Pritchard," he went
on, breathing a little more naturally now, "you came here meaning
to do the right thing--I know that.
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