"God help you then!" she shivered, thinking of one other who had loved her so differently.
"Belike He will," was the pleasant rejoinder. "But we wander from the point. It is this: you shall retire to your chamber at once—er—armed with the key—an you will swear to marry me to-morrow."
Very white, she made as if to rise. The thin fingers closed over her shoulders, forcing her to remain.
"No, my dear. Sit still."
Her self-control was slipping away from her; she struggled to be free of that hateful hand.
"Oh, you brute, you brute! Let me go!"
"When you have given me your answer, sweetheart."
"It is no!" she cried. "A thousand times no!"
"Think...."
"I have thought! I would rather die than wed you!"