I hesitated, half turned towards the dispute, then set off running
towards the heaps. Some instinct told me not to be detected loading. I
was cool enough therefore to think of the aftermath of the thing I
meant to do.
I looked back once again towards the swaying discussion—or was it a
fight now? and then I dropped into the hollow, knelt among the weeds,
and loaded with eager trembling fingers. I loaded one chamber, got up
and went back a dozen paces, thought of possibilities, vacillated,
returned and loaded all the others. I did it slowly because I felt a
little clumsy, and at the end came a moment of inspection—had I
forgotten any thing? And then for a few seconds I crouched before I
rose, resisting the first gust of reaction against my impulse. I took
thought, and for a moment that great green-white meteor overhead swam
back into my conscious mind. For the first time then I linked it
clearly with all the fierce violence that had crept into human life. I
joined up that with what I meant to do. I was going to shoot young
Verrall as it were under the benediction of that green glare.
But about Nettie?