You will be happier," she concluded, "alone--with my
respect and friendship, than with me and my contempt."
He did not press the matter further, but if ever a man had
murder in his heart it was William Cecil Clayton, Lord
Greystoke, when, a week later, Robert Canler drew up before
the farmhouse in his purring six cylinder.
A week passed; a tense, uneventful, but uncomfortable
week for all the inmates of the little Wisconsin farmhouse.
Canler was insistent that Jane marry him at once.
At length she gave in from sheer loathing of the continued
and hateful importuning.
It was agreed that on the morrow Canler was to drive to
town and bring back the license and a minister.
Clayton had wanted to leave as soon as the plan was
announced, but the girl's tired, hopeless look kept him.
He could not desert her.
Something might happen yet, he tried to console himself
by thinking. And in his heart, he knew that it would require
but a tiny spark to turn his hatred for Canler into the blood
lust of the killer.
Early the next morning Canler set out for town.
In the east smoke could be seen lying low over the forest,
for a fire had been raging for a week not far from them, but
the wind still lay in the west and no danger threatened them.
About noon Jane started off for a walk. She would not let
Clayton accompany her. She wanted to be alone, she said,
and he respected her wishes.
Pages:
310
311
312
313
314
315
316
317
318
319
320
321
322
323
324
325
326
327
328
329
330
331
332
333
334