Drene turned his eyes on him. There was no trace of color in his
face.
"Aren't you pretty damned charitable?"
"Charitable? Well, I--I'm so inclined, I fancy."
"You'd be content to see that girl marry a dog like that?"
"I did not say so. I am no judge of men. No man knows enough to
condemn souls."
Drene looked at him: "Well, I'll tell you something. I know enough to do it. I had
rather damn my soul--and hers, too--than see her marry the man you
have named. It would be worth it to me."
After a strained silence, Guilder said: "There is a mode of dealing with those who have injured you, which
is radically different--"
"I deal with such people in my own fashion!"
"But, after all, the infamy is Graylock's. Why oblige him by
sharing it with him?"
"Do you know what he did to me and mine?"
"A few of us know," said Guilder, gently, "--your old friends."
There came a pale, infernal flicker into Drene's eyes: "I'll take your commission for that altar piece," he said.
"What is it? An Annunciation?"