"Tell me in heaven's name! You torture me!"
"Because he—is—my—"
Again she stopped, and again his anxiety got the better of him. He caught her hands in his own and held them with a grasp that hurt her.
"My God, will you cease this cruelty? He is not your—you are not really married to him, are you?"
"Hardly. Let go of my hands," she answered, striving to draw away: yet for a fairly strong young woman she exhibited an astonishing feebleness in her endeavor.
"Who is he?" with imperious insistence.
"My father—there! Now, will you release me?"
"Your father! And there is no other man?" in great bewilderment, through which the glimmering of greater relief began to shine.
She shook her head.
"And you did this for him alone?"