He paused, as though he expected her to speak, but she was incapable of answering him.
“Men work for women, and they murder for women, and behind all that they do, respectably or unrespectably, there is a woman,” said the Frog. “And you are that woman for me, Ella.”
“Who are you?” she managed to say.
“I am The Frog,” he replied again, “and you shall know my name when I have given it to you. I want you! Not now”—he raised his hand as he saw the terror rising in her face. “You shall come to me willingly.”
“You’re mad!” she cried. “I do not know you. How can I—oh, it’s too wicked to suggest . . . please go away.”
“I will go presently,” said the Frog. “Will you marry me, Ella?”
She shook her head.
“Will you marry me, Ella?” he asked again.
“No.” She had recovered her calm and something of her self-possession.
“I will give you——”