“You must come with me!” he whispered.
She exclaimed, incredulous, “Come with you!” then quickly bent forward, and looked intensely into his face.
“Why does your voice break? Is it some trouble of your own, and you seek me—me out of all the world?”
“It is not of my own.”
“Whose, then?”
“Yours.”
“Mon Dieu!” she cried, with a little sharp laugh of mockery. “I know of none—of no trouble or pleasure—that is our mutual concern.”
He clapped his hand roughly at that on her naked shoulder. His fingers clawed angry marks in the flesh.
“Ah!” she cried, “you hurt me!”
“Hurt!” he echoed. “Do you know what they are doing to-night in this devil’s city of yours?”