'Me!'
'I shall say nothing, Shafto—nothing to injure you at least—with reference to old times.'
'What the devil could you say that would injure me in the eyes of my own family?'
Dulcie thought of the locket stolen from her so roughly, of his subsequent villainy therewith, and of his tampering with her long and passionate letter to Florian, but remained judiciously silent, while striving to look at him with defiant haughtiness.
'I am speaking to you, Dulcie; will you have the politeness to attend to me?'
'To what end and purpose?'
She eyed him with chilling steadiness now, though her heart was full of fear; but his shifty grey eyes quailed under the cold gaze he challenged, and thought how closely her bearing and her words resembled those of Finella.
'You don't like me, Dulcie,' said he with a bitter smile, 'that is pretty evident.'
'No, I simply hate you!' said she, losing all control over herself.
'You are charmingly frank, Miss Carlyon, but hate is a game that two can play at; so beware, I say, beware! I must hold the winning cards.'