Brott is a strong man and a determined man. I do not think
that he will enjoy being made a fool of."
Lucille was indifferent.
"At any rate," she said, "I shall not see him. I have quite made
up my mind about that."
"And why not, Countess?" a deep voice asked from the threshold.
"What have I done? May I not at least know my fault?"
Lady Carey rose and moved towards the door.
"You shall have it out between yourselves," she declared, looking
up, and nodding at Brott as she passed. "Don't fight!"
"Muriel!"
The cry was imperative, but Lady Carey had gone. Mr. Brott closed
the door behind him and confronted Lucille. A brilliant spot of
colour flared in her pale cheeks.
"But this is a trap!" she exclaimed. "Who sent for you? Why did
you come?"
He looked at her in surprise.
"Lucille!"
His eyes were full of passionate remonstrance. She looked nervously
from him towards the door. He intercepted her glance.
"What have I done?" he asked fiercely. "What have I failed to do?
Why do you look as though I had forced myself upon you? Haven't I
the right? Don't you wish to see me?"
In Brott's face and tone was all the passionate strenuousness of a
great crisis. Lucille felt suddenly helpless before the directness
of his gaze, his storm of questions. In all their former intercourse
it had been she who by virtue of her sex and his blind love for her
had kept the upper hand.
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