He brought himself up with a jerk, realizing that his loose tongue was running away with his wits. She was looking at him with startled, inquiring eyes. "What do you mean by that, Barry Lapelle?" she asked, and he was quick to detect the uneasiness in her manner. He affected a grin of derision. "I'm going to put my case in the hands of Kenny Gwynne, the rising young barrister. With him on our side, my dear, I guess we'll bring her to time. All he has to do is to stand up to her and say he isn't going to put up with any more nonsense, and she'll see the light of wisdom. If he thinks it's all right for you to marry me, I guess that will end the matter. He's the head of the family, isn't he?" This hastily conceived explanation of his luckless remark succeeded in deceiving her. She stared at him in distress. "Oh, Barry, you--you surely can't be thinking of asking Kenneth to intercede--" "Why not? He doesn't see any reason why we shouldn't be married, my dear. In fact, he told me so a few days ago. He--" "I don't believe it," she cried. "You don't?" he exclaimed sharply. "No, I don't," she repeated. "Has he been talking to you about me?" he demanded, an ugly gleam flashing into his eyes. "He has never said a word against you,--not one. But I don't believe you when you say he told you that we ought to get married." She felt her cheeks grow hot. She had turned her face away from him. "I'm a liar, am I?" he snarled. "I--I don't believe he ever said it," she said stubbornly. "Well,--you're right," he admitted, after a moment's hesitation. "Not in so many words. But he did say to me that he had told you he saw no reason why you shouldn't marry me if you wanted to. Did he ever tell you that?" She remembered only too well the aggravating encounter in the thicket path. "Yes, he did," she replied, lifting her head defiantly. "And," she added, "I hated him for it. I hate him more and more every time I think of it. He--he was perfectly abominable." "Well, you're--you're damned complimentary," he grated, his face expressing the utmost bewilderment. She walked on for eight or ten paces before speaking again. Her head was lowered. She knew that he was glaring at the wing of the bonnet which shielded her whitening cheek. Suddenly she turned to him. "Barry, let's sit down on that log over there for a few minutes. There is something I've got to say to you,--and I'm sorry. You must not be angry with me. Won't you come over there with me,--and listen to what I have to tell you?" He hung back for a moment, his intuition grasping at something vague and yet strangely definite. "You--you are going to tell me it's all over between us, Viola?" he ventured, going white to the lips. He was as sober now as though he had never touched liquor in his life. "Come and sit down," she said gently, even compassionately.