"Revenge—yes," Norton interrupted, "but the boy—you don't hate him—you can't. You've always loved him as if he were your own——"
"Well, what of it?"
"I'm wondering——"
"What?"
His voice was low, vibrant but quiet:
"Why, if your mother instincts have always been so powerful and you've loved my boy with such devotion"—the tones quickened to sudden menace—"why you were so willing to give up your own child that day twenty years ago?"
He held her gaze until her own fell:
"I—I—don't understand you," she said falteringly.
He seized her with violence and drew her squarely before him:
"Look at me!" he cried fiercely. "Look me in the face!" He paused until she slowly lifted her eyes to his and finally glared at him with hate. "I want to see your soul now if you've got one. There's just one chance and I'm clutching at that as a drowning man a straw."