Caroline bit her lip.
"If you hurt Camilla, you will hurt me horribly."
He frowned sharply.
"That's another matter," he said.
"No, it is all one; I love her. I love her children." Caroline's voice broke.
"Don't cry," said Broxbourne, drawing a little nearer.
She shrank away from him, but not visibly. Her heart was beating in her throat.
The last remnant of anger had gone from his expression, his eyes were softer, his hands moved restlessly. Her white quivering face had more significance to him than mere prettiness in this moment. He had measured her will already in many an abortive attempt to attract her.
There had been an element of contempt in her indifference, in her cold rejection of his admiration, that had given her a lasting place in his thoughts. It gratified him strangely now to feel that he could move her, that he had beaten down that barrier of indifference. To a considerable degree, this surrender as it were to his power helped to reinstate him.
He was not likely to forget for many a day that he had been outwitted, made a fool of by a woman whom he imagined he had under his thumb, but there was more than a passing sensation of satisfaction and even pleasure in the realization that he could wring tears from such a girl as Caroline, that he had broken down such a proud spirit as hers.