“Dare not!” echoed she, in the same indignant tone, to which now was added an inflection of perplexity. Sightless as the darkness rendered me, I could have wagered that she raised her eyebrows and curled her lip.
“I dare not,” I repeated.
“Possibly you will be good enough to explain what it is you fear.”
“Frankly, I fear that you mean to do yourself a mischief. I dare not let go my hold upon you, lest you might take advantage of your liberty to throw yourself into the water.”
“Well, and if I should?”
“That would be a very foolish thing to do.”
“But what concern is it of yours? What right have you to molest me? My life is my own, is it not, to dispose of as I please?”
“That is a very difficult and subtle question, involving the first principles of theology and ethics. I do not think we can profitably enter into a discussion of it just now, and here. But this much I will promise you,” said I, “I shall not let go my hold upon your arm until I am persuaded that you have renounced your suicidal purpose.”
She gave a tchk of exasperation. Then, after a momentary silence—
“You are insolent and intrusive, sir. You presume upon the fact that I am a woman and alone, to take a shameful and unmanly advantage of me.”