The count smiled. To her it was a smile scarce less than a snarl.
"Give her up? Yes, as a mother gives up her child, as a lioness her cub. She has refused me, but nevertheless she shall be my wife. Oh, I am well-versed in human nature. She loves her father, and I know what sacrifices she would make to save his honor. To-night!—" But his lips suddenly closed.
"Well, to-night? Why do you not go on?" Mrs. Chadwick was pale. Her gloved hands were clenched. A spasm of some sort seemed to hold her in its shaking grasp.
"Nothing, nothing! In heaven's name, why have you stirred me so?" he cried.
"Supposing, after all, I loved you?"
He retreated. "Madam, your suppositions are becoming intolerable and impossible."
"Nothing is impossible. Supposing I loved you as violently and passionately as you love this girl?"
"Madam,"—hastily and with gentleness, "do not say anything which may cause me to blush for you; say nothing you may regret to-morrow."
"I am a woman of circumspection. My suppositions are merely argumentative. Do you realize, Count, that I could force you to marry me?"
Karloff's astonishment could not be equaled. "Force me to marry you?"