"
"Only, I might not have the influence," she finished.
"That I can not believe," he said, roughly. "The long and the short of
it is you don't trust me because you think that only people of your own
condition speak the truth always."
"Evidently," she murmured.
"You say to yourself--here's a fellow deep in with pirates, thieves,
niggers--"
"To be sure--"
"A man I never saw the like before," went on Lingard, headlong,
"a--ruffian."
He checked himself, full of confusion. After a time he heard her saying,
calmly:
"You are like other men in this, that you get angry when you can not
have your way at once."
"I angry!" he exclaimed in deadened voice. "You do not understand. I am
thinking of you also--it is hard on me--"
"I mistrust not you, but my own power. You have produced an unfortunate
impression on Mr. Travers."
"Unfortunate impression! He treated me as if I had been a long-shore
loafer. Never mind that. He is your husband. Fear in those you care for
is hard to bear for any man. And so, he--"
"What Machiavellism!"
"Eh, what did you say?"
"I only wondered where you had observed that. On the sea?"
"Observed what?" he said, absently. Then pursuing his idea--"One word
from you ought to be enough."
"You think so?"
"I am sure of it. Why, even I, myself--"
"Of course," she interrupted.
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