“No doubt you do not believe me, but it is true, my dear—I swear it is true.”
Her eyes began to flash.
“You know you are lying, you monster!”
“At least,” he retorted, with a dark smile, “your spirit is not broken, and I like that. You made such a terrible disturbance, and you did weep so much that I feared you would not have any spirit left. I admire the girl of spirit, and for the one who cows and whimpers, like a whipped puppy, I have but little regard.”
She was silent, but scorn and loathing continued to gleam in her eyes.
“I regret to the exceeding limit that we felt it necessary to pursue the course we did, but we dared not wait longer.”
“We? You mean yourself.”
“There is another concerned.”
“What other?”
“My friend, Medjid Bey. He is the owner of this yacht.”