“Bah!” he cried savagely. “Madge! Don’t be a fool! Will you loosen your hands before I hurt you.”
But she clung to him still.
“No, not yet,” she whispered. “You made me love you, Rob, and I forget everything in that. Promise me first that you will break all that off about Glynne Day.”
“I promise you that I’ll get your aunt to place you in a private asylum,” he cried brutally, “if you don’t leave go.”
There was a slight struggle, and he tore himself free, holding her wrists together in his powerful grasp and keeping her at arm’s length.
“There! Idiot!” he cried. “Must I hold you till you come to your senses.”
“If you wish—brute!” she cried through her little white teeth as her lips were drawn away. “Kill me if you like now. I don’t care a bit: you can’t hurt me more than you have.”
“If I hurt you, it serves you right. A nice, ladylike creature, ’pon my soul. Pity my mother hasn’t been here to see the kind of woman she wanted me to marry.”
“Go on,” she whispered, “go on. Insult me: you have a right. Go on.”
“I’m going off,” he said roughly. “There, go up to your room, and have a good hysterical cry and a wash, and come back to your senses. If you will have it you shall, and the whole truth too. I never cared a bit for you. It was all your own doing, leading me on. Want to go.”