“Them that lives by the sword shall die by the sword,” the widow said, seeking the support of the Scriptures. “And those who live by logs must have logs,” said Jim. “Folks is sayin’ Zaanan Frame was back of this caper of yours. ’Tain’t so, is it?” “No.” “Knew he wouldn’t be lendin’ his countenance to murderin’ and killin’ and maimin’ and injurin’.” “There would have been no fighting,” said Jim, his eyes on the tablecloth, “if my plans hadn’t been betrayed to Moran.” “Who done that, I’d like to know?” said the widow, quick to change her front. “Who’d ’a’ done such a miserable, sneakin’, low-down thing as that? You ought to ketch him and teach him sich a lesson he wouldn’t forgit it in a hurry.” “I can’t,” said Jim, dully. “You see, it wasn’t a man.” “H’m! Serves you right, then, for lettin’ a woman find out what you was goin’ to do.” Jim made no reply, did not lift his eyes, so he was unconscious of the look Marie bent upon him. Her eyes were startled, dark with apprehension. His manner toward her, what did it mean? Did he suspect her? She bit her lip and pretended to eat. Presently she excused herself and left the room with lagging steps. Jim finished his meal silently. He, too, went out, his feet heavy as his heart as he descended the steps and walked along the bricked path to the gate. Marie was waiting for him. “Jim,” she said, “what did you mean? You acted so—what you said—” “I meant,” said Jim, dully, “that within an hour from the time I told you what I was going to do, Moran was warned.” “You believe that I warned him?” He was silent. “No!” she cried. “No! I didn’t see Moran last night, Jim. I didn’t see him. I didn’t tell him.” “You only make it worse,” he said. “Moran was here. I saw him turn in the gate.” “I wasn’t here, Jim. I didn’t see him. I ran away from him because I was afraid. You don’t know how afraid of him I am, Jim. I begged you to stay home last night—but you couldn’t; so I ran away. He comes, Jim, and shows me the world—out there. He offers it to me—and I want it, I want it! He doesn’t put things into words; but I—I understand him. I—I hate him! But the longing; this awful place—You said you loved me, Jim, and I wouldn’t accept your love. You didn’t love me, you couldn’t love me, or you wouldn’t believe—” “I loved you and I trusted you. I would have trusted you with everything a man can trust a woman with. And you—you hardly waited till I was out of sight before you told him.” She looked at him with agony in her eyes.