He began pacing up and down again, making the cabin's smallness further dwarfed by his great strides. He fascinated her; she watched him, and her fear, formless and nameless, grew until it seemed that it would choke her.
There was a boarded-up window. A thin slit of light showed.
"We breakfast and go," he told her.
"And if I refuse to go with you?"
"I have my chain and my good right arm!"
Then, as once before, tingling with anger born of foreseen humiliation, she cried out:
"I hate you, brute that you are!"
"Not brute, but man," he told her sternly. "And, ever since the world was young, men, when they were men, claimed their mates and took and held them!"
Again for a long time he was silent. And then, on his feet, his arms thrown out, he cried in a strange voice: