"
Here he put out a broad, clean hand with square finger-tips and lifted
Sylvie's brown, unwilling left hand high from her side. "I am a
minister of the gospel," he repeated. "In a land where such a symbol
is thought much of, this woman has no wedding-ring. There is no
register of your marriage here in the one spot where such a
registration might have been most conveniently made--"
Sylvie jerked away her fingers; Pete laid down his load and slowly
drew his right hand into a terrible fist.
"No, no!" The square-tipped fingers were lifted deprecatingly. "You
must not be angry with me, my children. I am not here to judge you.
I have no knowledge of your temptation, of your difficulties; you
have met and loved in a wild and difficult land. I was not even sure
of my surmise. Now, however; your silence and your anger confirm my
opinion. I want only to offer you my services. Will you continue in
your life and love as I have seen them to be, or will you, if only
for the sake of other lives not yet your responsibility--perhaps,
will you take advantage of this opportunity which God has now given
you and let me make you indeed man and wife?"
Pete's fist was still terrible, and his lips were gathering their
words, when Sylvie unbelievably spoke.
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