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Updated: June 5, 2025
Annette watched until the yacht had gone. When she turned round Roger was coming toward her. She cried out, a cry of relief, of happiness, of love. "Annette!" he whispered, and came close to her. "Wait, wait!" she said. "There are things to be explained." "I know." He moved back a step. "I was a brute, too." "What?" "Garman " "Oh that! It was terrible, I know, but you were not the aggressor.
In his state of semidelirium Roger began to doubt that he had won over Garman. The doubt became a certainty. Defeat, not victory, was his portion. Garman's was the victory, the victory of bitter knowledge over the vaporish ideals of youth. Roger stooped to drink from a clear pool at the river's brink and shrank back at the reflection he beheld in the water. A strange, lined face stared up at him.
He jerked the rifle from his opponent's hands. Garman was on his hands and knees, sneering grotesquely at Roger's face above the leveled barrel. And suddenly Roger swung the rifle round and threw it out of reach in the palmetto scrub. "Get up!" he panted hoarsely. "I've got you now." Garman rose on tottering legs and came on.
At that moment the door opened and young Mrs. Garman entered the room. She looked so lovely that all eyes were turned upon her. Her French grey silk with its pink trimmings had a cut quite foreign to those parts, and it was difficult to look at her or her toilette without feeling that both were out of the common in that society.
But the father held by sailing ships on principle; and, moreover, the idea that Garman and Worse should have anything in common with the mushroom houses of the town was to him quite unbearable. In the end, the will of the elder prevailed; the ship was built of their own materials, in their own ship-yard, and by the workmen who from generation to generation had worked for Garman and Worse.
"Garman, who's the man Ramos spoke of?" "Let go, you fool! The brute's a striker." Payne dodged the flash of the animal's forehoofs, but caught a bridle rein. "Who is he, Garman?" "A fool trespassing. Just business." "Not Higgins or any of my men?" "No, nobody you know. Look out!" The horse lunged forward. Payne stepped aside. Garman was gone, like a hunter in sight of his quarry.
"Don't you trouble about that, Payne; you worry about how you're going to get out." Payne paid no attention to this veiled threat, and continued: "Also, I'll make a guess that you're one of the real big men in the Prairie Highlands Land Company, which sold me a lot of water for farm land." Garman smiled. "Well, it's this way, Mr. Garman; I've been stung and stung badly.
She considered that it was highly improper for a young man to be so forward and daring; but it was quite in accordance with the spirit of the times, as Pastor Martens had explained on the previous Sunday. "Ah, Pastor Martens is quite a different man, is he not?" asked Mrs. Garman, addressing Madeleine, as Rachel made no reply. "Yes oh yes!" answered Madeleine, abstractedly.
She came one day into the office, and desired him to give her some employment in the business. Consul Garman never lost his self-command, but on this occasion he was on the very point of doing so.
He felt an impulse to jump up and shout; but he kept his cheek to the rifle butt and responded: "Keep to your own side of those stakes, Garman, or I'll sink your canoe." "Answer me!" hissed Garman. "Answer me, or by God! the alligators will make a meal of you!" "You've got your answer. Keep off and keep out of danger." "Give her up! Do you hear: give her up or she'll be sorry she ever was born."
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