She started, for she had not realized how he would take literally what she said. She had no experience of desperate men in her limited life.
"Murder him? No!" she said, snatching back her hand from his arm. "No, no! I never meant that."
"I am glad you did not. If you did, I should probably break down and do it to please you. But if he will fight like a man, I will kill him to please myself. Now I will go and get a carriage and take you home."
He rose to his feet and, turning, turned away from her, going toward the corner to get an overcoat. She followed him with her eyes, in silence.
"You are not afraid to be left alone for a quarter of an hour?" he asked, buttoning his coat, and looking toward his umbrella.
"Do not go just yet," she answered softly.
"I must. It is getting late. I shall not find a carriage if I wait any longer. I must go now."
She heard him breathe hard once or twice. Then with quick strides he was beside her, and speaking to her.
"Gloria, I cannot stand it—I warn you. I love you in a way you cannot understand. You must not keep me here."