“You?” she repeated. “Oh, yes, it’s Mr. Simpson. I must hurry on—I must——”
He did not attempt to move aside, and the girl’s head went back and her eyes flashed.
“Please let me past,” she said imperiously.
Simpson laughed.
“All in good time. But I want to say something first. Won’t you listen, Gloss?”
“If it’s what you said before, I don’t want to hear it,” she answered. “You—you mus’n’t keep me here; it’s dangerous—dangerous for you.”
“Or you?” he laughed.
He came toward her and she recoiled.
“You held me once—in your arms,” she panted, “and against my will. You mus’n’t hold me so again. If you do—I’ll kill you.”
“I’ll take the chance,” he said hoarsely; “it’s worth dying for.”