Tony glanced about him. “If I could wrench a bar out of that window—” he muttered.
“Impossible! The court is guarded. You are a prisoner, alas.—Oh, I must speak!” She sprang up and paced the room. “But indeed you can scarce think worse of me than you do already—”
“I think ill of you?”
“Alas, you must! To be unwilling to marry the man my father has chosen for me—”
“Such a beetle-browed lout! It would be a burning shame if you married him.”
“Ah, you come from a free country. Here a girl is allowed no choice.”
“It is infamous, I say—infamous!”
“No, no—I ought to have resigned myself, like so many others.”
“Resigned yourself to that brute! Impossible!”
“He has a dreadful name for violence—his gondolier has told my little maid such tales of him! But why do I talk of myself, when it is of you I should be thinking?”