She stared into his eyes a moment. “I don’t believe you,” she said; “I don’t believe you intended to.” He snarled at her incoherently. “My country is at war,” she said, passionately, “and men like you have forced her into war—you spies and traitors and murderers—your race of murderers. Are you playing fair with me?”
“Yes,” he said. “The war—I’m through with them. I’m an American citizen.”
“If you hadn’t said that I might have believed you. I know what sort of American citizen you are!... You lied to me and got me out of the way.... What’s a lie more or less among Germans?”
“I lied, did I? I’ll show you how I lied.” He was insane with passion. “I did lie.... Did you, a squalling cat of a girl, think you could interfere? This damned country—a cat’s-paw for England.... I’m a German—a German, do you hear? And you’re a German.... We fight for the fatherland.... They think to make war! They think to crush the fatherland!... We’re teaching them a lesson. When the day is come—when the call goes out—then I won’t be a German in America, I’ll be a German in Germany!...” He stopped, his face the color of some unspeakable jungle orchid nourished by steaming, poisonous vapors. He had said too much; his rage had betrayed his tongue, and he looked at her with narrowed, calculating eyes.
“I can ’tend to you,” he said, softly. “I’ll cage you. I’ll keep your mouth shut.”
“You’re—my—father,” she said, slowly, incredulously. It was ghastly, woven of nightmare threads, that this man, whose very physical presence had become revolting, should be one of the authors of her existence. She owed life to him. How gladly would she have blotted out the years to her birth and waned into nothingness, non-existence!
“I’m your father,” he repeated after her. “See you remember it.... You’ve come back where you weren’t wanted; now you’ll stay where you don’t want to stay.... I’ve got my hands on you and I’ll keep them there.... You little fool! There’s no danger in you.” He laughed grossly. “I’ll quarantine you. You’ve caught a secret that’s contagious, and I’ll quarantine you. You sha’n’t leave this house; you sha’n’t see anybody or talk to anybody. I’m not giving you orders. You’ll be watched day and night.... If you think you can get out—try it.”
“Get out of my room!” she cried, and, rushing past him, she threw open the door. She stood crouching, tigerish, and he drew away from her as he passed. In the hall he shook his fist at her.
“Try to get out!” he bellowed. “Try to send a word out of this house!”
She slammed the door, slammed it with all her strength, and locked it. Her one thought was to injure her father—to hurt him physically. She wanted to see him suffering, crying out in agony.... Wild plans for bringing retribution down on his head flashed through her brain.... She could set the house on fire. She could do this or do that.... It was wild, unreasoning rage.