Life has become a hell for me,
a pestilent, militant hell! Yet, Lucille, unless you break faith
with me I make no complaint. I am content."
"I am very sorry," she said. "I do not think that you have properly
understood me. I have never made you any promise."
For a moment he lost control of himself. She shrank back at the
blaze of indignation, half scornful, half incredulous, which lit up
his clear, grey eyes.
"It is a lie!" he answered. "Between you and me it can be no
question of words. You were always very careful of your pledges,
but there are limits even to your caution--as to my forbearance.
A woman does not ask a man who is pleading to her for her love to
give up everything else he cares for in life without hope of reward.
It is monstrous! I never sought you under false pretenses. I never
asked you for your friendship. I wanted you. I told you so plainly.
You won't deny that you gave me hope--encouraged me? You can't
even deny that I am within my rights if I claim now at this instant
the reward for my apostasy."
Her hands were suddenly locked in his. She felt herself being drawn
into his arms. With a desperate effort she avoided his embrace. He
still held her left wrist, and his face was dark with passion.
"Let me go!" she pleaded.
"Not I!" he answered, with an odd, choked little laugh.
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