"She may be dead now," he said to himself in a dazed whisper.
"I don't think so!" the soft voice purred with the slightest suggestion of a sneer. She bit her lips and actually laughed. It was more than he could bear. With a sudden leap his hands closed on her throat and forced her trembling form back into the shadows.
"May—God—hurl—you—into—everlasting—hell—for—this!" he cried in anguish and his grip suddenly relaxed.
The girl had not struggled. Her own hand had simply been raised instinctively and grasped his.
"What shall I do?" she asked.
"Get out of my sight before I kill you!"
"I'm not afraid."
The calm accents maddened him to uncontrollable fury:
"And if you ever put your foot into my house again or cross my path, I'll not be responsible for what happens!"
His face was livid and his fists closed with an unconscious strength that cut the blood from the palms of his hands.