"Why do I wait for you?" he said, and in his words there beat a fierce unrest. "Why am I such a fool? I lie awake night after night consumed with the want of you. When I sleep, I am always chasing you, you will-o'-the-wisp; and you always manage to keep just out of reach." His arms tightened. His voice suddenly sank to a deep whisper. "Daphne! Shall I tell you what I am going to do?"
"What?" panted Dinah.
"I am going to take you right away over the hills to-morrow to a place I know of where it is as lonely as the Sahara, and we will have a picnic there all to ourselves—all to ourselves, and make up for to-day."
His lips pressed hers again, but she withdrew herself with a sharp effort. There was nameless terror in her heart.
"Oh, I can't, Eustace! I can't indeed!" she said, and now she was striving, striving impotently, for freedom. "I'm going up to town with Isabel."
"Isabel can wait," he said.
"No! No! I must go. You don't understand. There are no end of things to be done." Dinah was as one encircled by fire, searching wildly round for a means of escape. "I must go!" she said again. "I must go!"
"You can go the next day," he said with arrogance. "I want you to-morrow and I mean to have you. Look at me, Dinah!"
She glanced at him, compelled by the command of his tone, met the fiery intensity of his look, and sank helpless, conquered.
He kissed her again. "There! That's settled. You silly little thing! Why do you always beat your wings against the inevitable? Do you think you are going to get away from me now?"