"Damn it, Drake--don't you understand!" For suddenly Ruth's eyes softened; she had turned them on Dick pitifully, appealingly--and he had loosed her ankles, had leaned forward as though to draw away the band that covered her lips.
"Your gun," whispered Ventnor to me; before I had moved he had snatched the automatic from my holster; had covered Drake with it.
"Drake," he said, "stand where you are.

If you take another step toward this girl I'll shoot you--by God, I will!" Drake halted, shocked amazement in his face; I myself felt resentful, wondering at his outburst.
"But it's hurting her," he muttered, Ruth's eyes, soft and pleading, still dwelt upon him.
"Hurting her!" exclaimed Ventnor.

"Man--she's my sister! I know what I'm doing.

Can't you see?
Can't you see how little of Ruth is in that body there--how little of the girl you love?
How or why I don't know--but that it is so I DO know.

Drake--have you forgotten how Norhala beguiled Cherkis?
I want my sister back.