Besides, I didn't kill them." Lawler abruptly turned away from her and walked to the fireplace.

His face was pale and his eyes were glowing with contempt.

She followed him as far as the table, her lips in a pout--and stood there watching him, her gaze mocking, defiant.
He finally turned and looked at her, his lips set in straight lines.
"Yes, I killed them, Miss Wharton," he said, evenly.

"Do you know why ?" "Because they seemed determined to kill you--because they attacked you, I suppose," she returned.
"You are wrong, Miss Wharton.

There was nothing personal in that killing.