"Go out!" he said, and pointed.
The clasp of her hands tightened, and while she looked up at him, she prayed vehemently. "O God, God," she thought, "let me save her. O God, what shall I do? O God, God, God!"
"Go out," he said. "I'm going to keep her here till she'll be glad to be my wife, and then it'll be my turn to laugh. She can go home in the morning."
"I want to sit down," Helen said.
She looked for a chair and sat on it, and he dropped to the bed, which gave out a loud groaning sound. He hid his face in his hands and rocked himself to and fro.
"She's tortured me," he muttered, and glared angrily at Helen.
She rose and went to him, saying, "Yes, but she's only a little girl. You must remember that. And you're a man."
"Yes, by God!" he swore.
He raised both hands. "Get out of this!" he shouted. "She shall stay here tonight." The hands went to Helen's shoulders and forced her to her knees. "D'ye hear? I tell you she's made me mad!"
Helen was more pitiful than afraid. She hardly knew what she did, but she thought God was in the room.