He didn’t know, but he obeyed. What else could he do?
“Now say something.” Her voice had once more that ownership accent.
“What do you want me to say?” None too graciously.
“The usual thing! Those three words that make the world go around.”
“But I don’t.” Even a worm will turn.
“You will.” Softly.
“I won’t.”
“Oh, yes, you will.” More softly. Then with a sigh: “This is the place. Under this oak, carved all over with hearts and things. Do it.”
“What?” He looked down on lips red as cherries.
“Are you going to?”