u something, and I don't just know
how."

Her eyes were gazing up into his, the soft brown eyes of the beautiful
soul within. She strove to compel his gaze, but it moodily withheld
its regard.

"Jeff, you'll kill poor Evie. You'll break her heart by robbing her of
all you've brought into her life through your love. Say, can't you see
it all? And you'll do it for a shadow. Yes, it's a shadow, an ugly
shadow, this crazy thought of yours for a brother who was just a
low-down cattle rustler, same as these toughs you're making a bid of
ten thousand dollars to see hanged the same as he was. Think of it,
Jeff. She's just a woman, weak and helpless, and you're going to rob
her of all that makes her life worth while. Would you act that way by
a mother, or--or a sister? And she's your wife, Jeff, who's given you
all a loving woman has to give. I could tell you of the things this
means to you, and the schemes and plans you've sort of set your heart
on, but I don't need to. I just want you to see what you're doing by
her, and all the time she's done you no wrong. Do you get that, dear?
Evie's never done you a wrong, and in return you're going to do all you
know to kill her heart dead."

"Done me no wrong?" There was a desperate sort of sneer in the words.
They were the words of a man who is robbed of denial but still protests.

But Nan rejected even that. She swiftly flung it back in her sense of
the injustice of it.

"It's as I said, Jeff. Just as I said," she declared solemnly. She
drew a deep breath. She was about to take a plunge which might bear
her she knew not whither. "Oh, I could get mad with you for that. I
could so, Jeff. I know the story of it. You've told it yourself, and
I don't guess you've spared her any. But you're blinding yourself
because you're crazy to do so. You're blinding yourself to all sense
of justice to defend a wretched scallawag who happened to be your
brother. Say, you're trying to fix on your wife, the woman who loves
you, and who you guess you love, all the dirt you should heap on the
worthless man who lived by theft, and maybe, even, was a murderer.
Say, don't speak. Not just a single word. Guess you can say all you
need when I'm through," she cried, as the man, with eyes ablaze, sought
to break in. "When I'm through I'll listen. Say, bring this right
home here. We're being robbed by cattle thieves. I don't guess
they're better or worse than your brother. What i