She knew that she might as efficaciously appeal to an iron column, and her features settled into an expression that could never have been called resignation,—that plainly meant hopeless endurance. She attempted twice to withdraw her hand, but his clasp tightened. Bending his haughty head, he asked:
"Will you be reasonable?"
A heavy sigh broke over her compressed mouth, and she answered in a low, but almost defiant tone:
"It seems I cannot help myself."
"Then yield gracefully to the inevitable, and you will learn that when struggles end, peace quickly follows."
She chose neither to argue, nor acquiesce, and slowly shook her head.
"Regina."
She merely lifted her eyes.
"I want you to be happy in my house."
"Thank you, sir."