He turned away, and, in the violence of the movement, knocked over a little toy chair, one of those perfectly useless, and no less ugly, impediments which stand about the floor of a well-furnished drawing-room. Too angry to stoop and set the object on its legs again, he strode towards the door. Louise followed him.
'You are going?' she asked, in a struggling voice.
Cobb paid no attention, and all but reached the door. She laid a hand upon him.
'You are going?'
The touch and the voice checked him. Again he turned abruptly and seized the hand that rested upon his arm.
'Why are you stopping me? What do you want with me? I'm to help you out of the fix you've got into, is that it? I'm to find you a lodging, and take no end of trouble, and then in a week's time get a letter to say that you want nothing more to do with me.'
Louise was pale with anger and fear, and as many other emotions as her little heart and brain could well hold. She did not look her best—far from it but the man saw something in her eyes which threw a fresh spell upon him. Still grasping her one hand, he caught her by the other arm, held her as far off as he could, and glared passionately as he spoke.
'What do you want?'
'You know—I've told you the truth—'
His grasp hurt her; she tried to release herself, and moved backwards. For a moment Cobb left her free; she moved backward again, her eyes drawing him on. She felt her power, and could not be content with thus much exercise of it.