Virginia suddenly leaned forward. "Where did you live before you came here, Harold?" she asked. There was a sudden, unmistakable contempt in her voice. XXX Harold caught the note of scorn in Virginia's voice, and he had an instant of sobriety. He looked at her with eager eyes. The poison in his veins had enhanced her beauty to him; his eyes leapt quickly over her slender form. It would pay to be careful, he thought. He didn't want to lose her now. But in an instant his reckless mood returned. "Where I lived? What do you care, as long as I'm here? I suppose Bill has already told you, the dirty----" "Don't say it," Virginia cautioned quickly. "I wouldn't answer for the consequences." But for all her brave words, terror swept her. She remembered that Bill was helpless and blind. "Bill has told me nothing. It wouldn't be like him to tell me things--that might make me unhappy." "Sing another little song about him, why don't you?" Harold scorned. "I haven't heard you talk anything else for a month. But what do I care?" He tried to steady himself, to control his erring tongue. "But, Virginia--that's all right, if he's one of your friends. He's good enough according to his lights--but you can't expect much from some one who's never been outside these tall woods! No wonder he couldn't see a joke, or take a drink with a gentleman. He hasn't the chances, the environment--that's it, environment--that you and I have had. And speaking of drinks----" He went to the table again and poured his cup half full. Then with unsteady hand he poured an equal portion for the two Indians. They took their cups with burning eyes, and Harold raised his own drink aloft. "A little toast--and everybody stand up," he cried. "We're going to drink to Virginia! To my future wife, gentleman--the lady who's promised me her hand! Look at her there, you breeds--the most beautiful woman that ever came to the North! Drink her down!" The burning poison poured into their throats. Virginia glanced again at her pistol, but Joe still stood, half-covering it with his arm. Her face was no longer merely anxious. All color had swept from it; her eyes were wide and pleading. But there was no one to give aid to-night. Bill sat, helpless and blind, against the wall. She had not dared to resent aloud the bandying of her name, the insult of their searching eyes upon her beauty. It seemed to her that she heard a half-muttered exclamation from Bill, but his face belied it. And in reality the man's thoughts were as busy as never before.