“You torture me! And I tell you the hour is past.”
“Let it pass. I’ll not accept your sacrifice. I will not lift a finger to help another man to marry you.”
“Oh, madman, madman!” she murmured.
Tony, with crossed arms, faced her squarely, and she leaned against the wall a few feet off from him. Her breast throbbed under its lace and falbalas, and her eyes swam with terror and entreaty.
“Polixena, I love you!” he cried.
A blush swept over her throat and bosom, bathing her in light to the verge of her troubled brows.
“I love you! I love you!” he repeated.
And now she was on his breast again, and all their youth was in their lips. But her embrace was as fleeting as a bird’s poise and before he knew it he clasped empty air, and half the room was between them.
She was holding up a little coral charm and laughing. “I took it from your fob,” she said. “It is of no value, is it? And I shall not get any of the money, you know.”
She continued to laugh strangely, and the rouge burned like fire in her ashen face.