"Did you?" said Piers. "Then why did you lock the door?"
He swung it closed behind him and came to her.
"Listen to me, Avery!" he said. "You are not your own any longer—to give or to take away. You are mine."
She faced him with all the strength she could muster, but she could not meet those awful eyes that mocked her, that devoured her.
"Piers," she said, almost under her breath, "remember,—what happens to-night we shall neither of us ever forget. Don't make me hate you!"
"Haven't you begun to hate me then?" he demanded. "Would you have locked that door against me if you hadn't?"
She heard the rising passion in his voice, and her heart fainted within her. Yet still desperately she strove for strength.
"I don't want to do anything violent or unconsidered. I must have time to think. Piers, you have me at your mercy. Be merciful!"
He made a sharp movement. "Are you going to be merciful to me?" he said.
She hesitated. There was something brutal in the question, yet it pierced her. She knew that he had divined all that had been passing within her during that evening of misery. She did not answer him, for she could not.