"Do you think you are stronger than I am?" he says, amusement blended with the old admiration in his eyes.
"No, but they are," she says, pointing to her two faithful companions, who are staring hungrily at Rodney and evidently only awaiting the word from Mona to fling themselves upon him.
She beckons to them, and, rising slowly, they advance towards Rodney, who involuntarily moves back a little. And in truth they are formidable foes, with their bloodshot eyes, and bristling coats, and huge jaws that, being now parted, show the gleaming teeth within.
"On guard," says Mona, whereupon both the brutes crouch upon the ground right before Rodney, and fix him seriously and menacingly with their eyes.
"You are certainly too strong for me," says Rodney, with a frown and a peculiar smile.
"As you have refused to explain your presence here to me, you shall remain where you now are until help arrives," says Mona, with evident determination.
"I am content to stay here until the day dawns, if you keep me company," replies he, easily.
"Insolence, sir, is perhaps another part of your role," returns she, with cold but excessive anger.
She is clad in a long white dressing-gown, loose, yet clinging, that betrays each curve of her svelte, lissom figure. It is bordered with swansdown, and some rich white lace, that sits high to her neck and falls over her small hands. Her hair is drawn back into a loose knot, that looks as if it would tumble down her back should she shake her head. She is pale, and her eyes are peculiarly large and dark from excitement. They are fixed upon Rodney with a gaze that belies all idea of fear, and her lips are compressed and somewhat dangerous.
"Is truth insolence?" asks Rodney. "If so, I demand your pardon. My speech, no doubt, was a betise, yet it came from my heart."