I never could keep that if I went back to you."
"It's _your_ reputation, of course," Pell smiled. "You can do as you like
with it." He turned fully toward her. "All right, I've no objection."
"You're lying," Gilbert affirmed.
Pell's tongue rolled round in his cheek. "I don't blame you for thinking
so. _You_ haven't been shot to-day. You should try it sometime. It changes
one's viewpoint surprisingly." His voice seemed to lose its hardness for a
moment; there was a note of self-pity in it.
"But you said--" Gilbert began.
Pell's whole manner changed, and the look of a wounded animal came into his
eyes. "A man says many things in anger that he doesn't mean," was his own
extenuation. "Haven't you ever made the same mistake yourself, Jones? I'm
sure you have. There's no use getting excited." He put up a hand. "Here we
are, we three. She is my wife. But she doesn't love me, nor do I love her.
She does love you. What is the best way out for all of us?"
A new Morgan Pell! They could scarcely believe the metamorphosis.
"You'd give her up?" Gilbert said.
The other looked down, and the point of his boot drew a little ring on the
floor. "I can't hold her," he said, "if she doesn't want to be held, can
I?"
"You don't intend--"
"To fight you?" Pell looked him squarely in the eye.
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