done the killing?" suggested Yancy.
"Well, a man might. I don't know but what he'd be justified in
getting shut of his troubles like that."
When Betty Malroy rode away from Squire Balaam's Murrell galloped
after her. Presently she heard the beat of his horse's hoofs as
he came pounding along the sandy road and glanced back over her
shoulder. With an exclamation of displeasure she reined in her
horse. She had not wished to ride to the Barony with him, yet
she had no desire to treat him with discourtesy, especially as
the Ferrises were disposed to like him. Murrell quickly gained a
place at her side.
"I suppose Ferris is at the Barony?" he said, drawing his horse
down to a walk.
"I believe he is," said Betty with a curt little air.
"May I ride with you?" he gave her a swift glance. She nodded
indifferently and would have urged her horse into a gallop again,
but he made a gesture of protest. "Don't--or I shall think you
are still running away from me," he said with a short laugh.
"Were you at the trial?" she asked. "I am glad they didn't get
Hannibal away from Yancy."
"Oh, Yancy will have his hands full with that later--so will
Bladen," he added significantly. He studied her out of those
deeply sunken eyes of his in which no shadow of youth lingered,
for men such as he reached their prime early, and it was a
swiftly passing splendor. "Ferris tells me you are going to West
Tennessee?" he said at length.
"Yes.
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