“I am a very modern man, and I enjoy this to the utmost,” he said. “What I like best is the melodrama of it—in connection with Fifth Avenue. I am perfectly aware that you will not discuss this incident in the future. You are a clever enough young woman to know that it will be more to your interest than to mine that it shall be kept exceedingly quiet.”
The white fire had not died out of her and she stood straight.
“What I have called on will be near me, and will stand between us,” she said.
Old though it was, the door was massive and heavy to lift. To open it cost him some muscular effort.
“I am going to the horses now,” he explained before he dragged it back into its frame and shut her in. “It is safe enough to leave you here. You will stay where you are.”
He felt himself secure in leaving her because he believed she could not move, and because his arrogance made it impossible for him to count on strength and endurance greater than his own. Of endurance he knew nothing and in his keen and cynical exultance his devil made a fool of him.
As she heard him walk down the path to the gate, Betty stood amazed at his lack of comprehension of her.
“He thinks I will stay here. He absolutely thinks I will wait until he comes back,” she whispered to the emptiness of the bare room.
Before he had arrived she had loosened her boot, and now she stooped and touched her foot.
“If I were safe at home I should think I could not walk, but I can walk now—I can—I can—because I will bear the pain.”