As her hair was lifting to the magnet of the knout, he dropped it. The respite, however, was not for mercy’s sake.
“You didn’t change expression. You don’t cringe. Why?”
“Pain is a coward’s thought. I know that you, Augustness, cannot hurt me.”
Interestedly he contemplated her and this, her first open defiance. “You’re smarter than I thought. You have a certain regardlessness that is the next-best thing to conscious power.”
“I have,” she said, “faith that——”
“Faith?” he jeered. “Then I have it, too—faith that I’ll do my damnedest. I cannot hurt you physically, no. But I hold a record for hurting minds that may cause you to reconsider.”
“Not while I believe that all will be well with me.” The voice of her contention sounded like the balmy winds of spring, to which nor man nor devil may say nay.
Perhaps her glance toward the gates suggested the source of her beatitude. Perhaps he sensed it from his own irritation. He passed her point to level one of his own.
“And has this belief absolute padded your senses against the fact that I am displeased with you, she-fool? Don’t worry. I never let personal prejudice interfere with The Cause. This faith-theory is valuable with the reverse English put on it. As a science, it has done considerable harm to the religions of the world. I’ve been waiting until your week was up. Why not have it now—your answer?”
“My answer to—to——”