In one sense she's
his slave, because she doesn't want to think of him, and she does. She
wants to think of you--and she does--ah, bagosh, yes!"
"Yes, I understand," remarked Carnac morosely. "I understand."
"Then why do you let her be under Tarboe's influence? Why don't--"
Carnac thrust out a hand that said silence. "Denzil, I'll never forget
what you've told me about yourself. Some day you'll have to tell it to
the priest, and then--"
"I'll never tell it till I'm on my death-bed. Then I'll tell it, sacre
bapteme, yes!"
"You're a bad Catholic, Denzil," remarked Carnae with emotion, but a
smile upon his face.
"I may be a bad Catholic, but the man deserved to die, and he died.
What's the difference, so far's the world's concerned, whether he died by
accident, or died--as he died. It's me that feels the fury of the damned,
and want my girl back every hour: and she can't come. But some day I'll
go to M'sieu' Luke Tarboe, and tell him the truth, as I've told it
you--bagosh, yes!"
"I think he'd try and kill you, if you did. That's the kind of man he
is."
"You think if he knew the truth he'd try and kill me--he!"
Carnac paused. He did not like to say everything in his mind. "Do you
think he'd say much and do little?"
"I dunno, I dunno, but I'll tell him the truth and take my chance.
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