“Good! You’re doing bravely. Keep it up. You have my sympathy and congratulations.”
“Thank you, Mary. But I want more than sympathy and congratulations.”
“What do you want? You know I have no money.”
“Money be damned! I want my reward.”
“What reward?”
“You know well enough. You said that when I had Richard Malleson smashed I should have a man’s reward. I want a foretaste of it to-night. I’ve earned it.”
“And what is a man’s reward?”
“It’s a woman’s love. There’s nothing else under heaven that’s worth working for or fighting for.”
There was no doubt that he meant what he said. The look in his eyes, the flush on his face, the big shoulders bent toward her, all proved it. She, herself, knew that to obtain some manifestation of love from her he would be willing to fight all the powers of earth and air. But her countenance did not change by so much as the dropping of an eyelid. She looked at him unflinchingly.
“I understand you,” she said. “You want me to say that I love you.”