The contest was now carried on between Rowland and Darrell. She even touched lightly on her father’s unreasonableness. They confronted each other, barely feet apart, neither apparently any longer aware of anyone else in the room. "My horse is at the door, saddled, with pistols in the holsters,—mount him and fly. Her mother brewed potions to scent her hair, sweet balms of anise for her lips and hands, told her wonderful secrets, some decidedly un-Christian. “This,” he said, and then: “No! Is this sweeter? Very well. They walked two by two to the car, looking the part of 267 two weary spouses supporting their drunken mates after an all-night bender.
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