“Beast I am—thanks to my delicate wife,” cried Virey, with exceeding bitter passion. “Delicate? Ha-ha! The last lover of Magdalene Virey can’t see she’s strong as steel—alive as red fire! How she clings to memory! How she has nine lives of a cat—and hangs on to them—just to remember!... And you—meddler! You desert rat of a preacher! Get out—or I’ll kill you!”
“Shoot and be damned!” flashed Adam, as with leap as swift as his voice he reached a sweeping arm.
Virey’s face turned ashen. He raised the gun. Adam knocked it up just as it exploded. The powder burned his forehead, but the bullet sped high. Another blow sent the gun flying to the sand. Then Adam, fastening a powerful grip on Virey, clutching shirt and collar and throat at once, dragged him before the stone bench where Mrs. Virey s
