She clutched at her heart.
"Ah?" he observed with mild interrogation in the word. "How foolish thy caprice! Hotep does not thank thee. His marble spirit hath set its loves upon ink-pots and papyri and such pulseless things. How I should reproach myself if I must undo him—"
"Nay, bring no disaster on the head of the noble Hotep," she begged.
"He—I—there is naught between us."
"It is even as I had thought. I shall tell Rameses and send him to thee," he said, moving away.
With a bound she was between him and the door.
"If he ask tell him there is naught between me and the royal scribe, but send him not hither," she commanded with vehemence.
"If thou art rebellious, Masanath, I must chasten thee."
"Threaten me not!" she cried, thoroughly aroused, "or by the Mother of Heaven, I shall demand audience with Meneptah and tell him what thou wouldst do."
"Bluster!" he answered with an irritating laugh.
"Hast won the sanction of the Pharaoh for this betrothal?" she demanded.