"You are so beautiful," he muttered, wavering.
"In your eyes, no doubt. Mr. Askew prefers brunettes south of the Equator. But!"--she rose suddenly, as though she spurned him--but "I prefer trust. I am angry--yes, very angry. Oh, that you should doubt me--doubt me!" Her tragic assertion was admirable.
"I do not--I do not;" and he still grovelled, catching at her dress.
"Your presence here proves otherwise. Mr. Askew, indeed--a general lover, a volatile sailor with a wife in every port for all I know. Can you not credit me with more exclusive tastes?"
"He is handsome," muttered the still suspicious doctor, and rose, brushing his knees mechanically.
"Is he? So you think I am to be won by looks, like a schoolmiss in her teens;" she looked at his sharp white face, and laughed cruelly. "That I am engaged to you should prove differently."
He scarcely heeded her. "Swear! Swear!" and his eyes flamed.
Leah, calculating the effect, lost her temper. "I shall in a moment," she cried angrily. "The most patient of women--of whom I am not one--have their limits. Why do you allow jealousy to overrule common sense, when the position is so plain? You fixed your price and fulfilled your part of the bargain. Am I, I ask you, free to play you this trick of a hasty marriage, when you can expose me as privy to a fraud? You see that I do not mince matters; I speak plainly, do I not? You have all the winning cards, and can compel me to become your wife, even if I dissented. Why, then, do you come here on a fool's errand?"
"But I love you so," he protested piteously.
"And love, being blind, makes you stumble into danger. I think you had better return to England by the night train."