"And I am sure, dear," he added in a deep resonant voice, "that in time you will come to care for me as I care for you now--you, the only woman I have ever loved. I understand about Edgerton, but you see, you couldn't marry him--in fact, he couldn't marry anybody for years; he has nothing.... And these earlier attachments that we think the biggest things in our lives--well, they just dwindle, Annabel, they dwindle as we get the true perspective. I know your happiness depends upon me, and it rejoices me to know it. I can give you all you want--all you can dream of--and I'm man-of-the-world enough to understand that happiness depends just on that--getting what you want." Annabel started up abruptly. "I think I heard the boat scraping outside." "Yes, he's there. Come, dear, and before the ride is ended you must name the day--" "DON'T!" she exclaimed sharply. "He--" "He's as deaf as a post, my dear," Gledware murmured gently. "That's why I selected him. I knew we'd want to talk--I knew you'd name the day." He helped her down the rattling boards. Brick Willock rose softly and stole toward the opening, his eyes filled with a strange light. They no longer glared with the blood-lust of a wild beast, but showed gloomy and perplexed; the words spoken concerning himself had sunk deep. The boatman sat with his back to Gledware and Annabel. He wore a long dingy coat of light gray and a huge battered straw hat, whose wide brim hid his hair and almost eclipsed his face. Willock, careful not to show himself, stared at the skiff as it shot out from the landing, his brow wrinkled in anxious thought. He felt strange and dizzy, and at first fancied it was because of the resolution that had taken possession of him--the resolution to return to Greer County and give himself up. This purpose, as unreasoning as his plan to kill Gledware, grew as fixed in his mind as half an hour before his other plan had been. To go voluntarily to the sheriff, unresistingly to hold out his wrists for the handcuffs--that would indeed mark a new era in his life. "A wild Indian wouldn't do that," he mused, "nor a wild beast. I guess I understand, after all. And if that's the way to make Lahoma happy...." No wonder he felt queer; but his light-headedness did not rise, as a matter of fact, entirely from subjective storm-threatenings. There was something about that boatman--now, when he tilted up his head slightly, and the hat failed to conceal--was it possible?... "My God!" whispered Willock; "it's Red Feather!" And Gledware, with eyes only for Annabel, finding nothing beyond her but a long gray coat, a big straw hat and two rowing arms--did not suspect the truth!