I. A. R. Wylie

“ We were friends. But it happens that we love the same woman, and that woman is my wife. At that point friendship ceases.”
They confronted each other in the dim light, their faces set in the mask of self-control that men of their race and calling can assume in moments of greatest crisis. There was nothing in their attitude to betray them. Even when Delisle spoke, it was levelly, without apparent emotion.
“You are mistaken. I swear it to you. Have I done anything to suggest disloyalty? I am your friend—I have been Eileen's since her childhood. ”

“ I'm going to pay you back, pound for pound, shilling for shilling. And when I've cleared my debt, I'll fight you, Delisle. I'll fight you for my wife's love, and I'll win.”
“You're beside yourself, Fenton! What have I done?”
“You broke faith with me. For Eileen's sake, we made a bargain between us. I sold my independence, my pride, to you. It was foolish—dishonest, if you like—but Heaven knows I would rather have worked with a navvy's pick-ax. It was for Eileen's sake—you know that. She was never to know, and one day—I had still faith in myself—I meant to clear my debt. ”

“ The old, tried friendship, with all its boyish memories and later ties of manhood, had snapped, as completely wrecked as a ship cast up with savage force against merciless and treacherous rocks. And for the moment the sheer tragedy of the thing held back the inevitable flood of hatred. ”