"Burke!" she gasped. "Burke! What—are you going to do?"
His lips parted a little, and she saw his teeth. "You shall hear what I have done—afterwards," he said. "Let me pass!"
But she barred his way. Her numbed senses were all awake now and quivering. The very fact of physical effort seemed to have restored to her the power to suffer. She stood before him, her bosom heaving with great sobs that brought no tears or relief of any sort to the anguish that tore her.
"You—you can't pass," she said. "Not—not—like this! Burke, listen! I swear to you—I swear——"
"You needn't," he broke in. "A woman's oath, when it is her last resource, is quite valueless. I will deal with you afterwards. Let me pass!"
The command was curt as a blow. But still she withstood him, striving to still her agitation, striving with all her desperate courage to face him and endure.
"I will not!" she said, and with the words she stood up to her full, slim height, thwarting him, making her last stand.
His expression changed as he realized her defiance. She was panting still, but there was no sign of yielding in her attitude. She was girt for resistance to the utmost.
There fell an awful pause—a silence which only her rapid breathing disturbed. Her eyes were fixed on his. She must have seen the change, but she dared it unflinching. There was no turning back for her now.
The man spoke at last, and his voice was absolutely quiet, dead level. "You had better let me go," he said.