With a cry of startled anger, Ronador leaped back, his eyes flashing
terrible menace at Philip. There was only one pair of eyes, however,
quick and keen enough, for all their loveliness, to follow his swift
movement or the glitter of steel in his hand.
With a cry of fear and horror, Diane leaped like a wild thing and
struck his hand aside. A revolver fell at her feet. Aunt Agatha
screamed and covered her eyes with her hands.
In the tense quiet came the tranquil lap of the lake, the call of a
distant bird, the lazy murmur of many leaves in a morning wind. Philip
stood very quietly by the table. He looked at Diane; he seemed to have
forgotten the others, Tregar thought.
With terrible anger in her flashing eyes, Diane flung the revolver into
the placid lake, and facing Ronador, her sweet, stern mouth
contemptuous, she met his imploring gaze with one of scathing rebuke.
"Excellency," she said to Ronador, "whatever else Mr. Poynter may have
in mind, there is surely now an explanation which it behooves you to
make as a gentleman who is not a coward!"
Ronador moistened his white lips and looked away.
Trembling violently she turned to Philip.
"Philip!" she cried. "What is it?" As her eyes met his, her hand went
to her heart and the color swept in brilliant tide from the slim brown
throat to the questioning eyes.
Pages:
291
292
293
294
295
296
297
298
299
300
301
302
303
304
305
306
307
308
309
310
311
312
313
314
315