“You must learn to resist her,” I went on.
“Oh, yes, I shall; I shall do so better if you tell me it’s right.”
“You mustn’t do it for me; you must do it for yourself. It all comes back to you, if you are frightened.”
“Well, I am not frightened now,” said Miss Tita cheerfully. “She is very quiet.”
“Is she conscious again—does she speak?”
“No, she doesn’t speak, but she takes my hand. She holds it fast.”
“Yes,” I rejoined, “I can see what force she still has by the way she grabbed that picture this afternoon. But if she holds you fast how comes it that you are here?”
Miss Tita hesitated a moment; though her face was in deep shadow (she had her back to the light in the parlor and I had put down my own candle far off, near the door of the sala), I thought I saw her smile ingenuously. “I came on purpose—I heard your step.”
“Why, I came on tiptoe, as inaudibly as possible.”
“Well, I heard you,” said Miss Tita.