“Nothing has ever shaken my faith in you, Cherokee, until now, and this I must and will understand. Take your choice between force and persuasion.”
A deep wave of self-conscious color rushed over her face; suddenly she grew very pale, and her whole attitude toward him stiffened.
She laid the little white gloves in his hands, saying:
“I did not care to worry or accuse you.”
He shrank back, and they eyed each other fixedly.
“I call this a mean, contemptible trick,” he said, bitterly, “and now what are you going to do about it?”
“I have done all I intend to do,” she said, calmly.
“And pray what’s that?”
“Mended a rent in the fore-finger.”
Robert felt abashed at this, though there were still some ugly lines between his brows.