"I am not sure," she continued, "that I wanted you to answer my question—anyway at present. Perhaps your secrets might be too much, even for my conscience—and that is saying a great deal."
He had resumed his chair. There was a moment's pause.
"You were foolish to mock me," she went on. "Mockery is the one thing a woman cannot accept, or forgive. She can stand any amount of ill-treatment and cruelty, in a sufficient cause. But she cannot be mocked in any cause whatever. You made me certain promises, which honor bound you to fulfil—and then flung your renunciation of them in my face, before strangers who understood. It was a very mean and low-down thing to do."
A faint, sneering smile passed over his face. Her voice hardened.
"I am not a woman to defy—and I am still less a woman to mock. You are going to keep your promises."
"I'll see you in hell first!" he retorted brutally.
She laughed. "You will not see me in hell first," she said calmly. "You may quite possibly see me in hell after—because if there is a hell we shall certainly meet there. But in the meantime—you are going to redeem your word."
He made a slow gesture round the black room.
"You come to me now ... within a few hours...."
"Why not?" she returned hardly.