“I will be childish if I choose. Who is to prevent me?” she said defiantly.
“I will. I have no intention of submitting to any such childishness now. You are a woman, and you are the only woman who exists for me. In that character I mean to have your answer to my question.”
His words made her heart throb quick, with a feeling outside of the terror of self-betrayal by which she was possessed. She gave no outward sign, however, as she looked down, and began once more to pull at Inkling’s ears.
Before she realized what he was doing, Harold had bent forward, and lifting the dog from her lap, he set him on the floor, with a shove that sent him half-way across the room. As the little creature ran off frightened, Harold turned to the woman facing him, and forcibly took both her hands in his.
She jerked them from him with a powerful wrench, as she sprang to her feet, retreating a few paces until she was stopped by some benches and easels huddled together on that side of the room.
“Don’t touch me!” she cried, in a voice of real terror.
He let his hands drop to his sides, but he followed, and stood very close to her, as he said:
“You had better answer me, and let me have my way. I am not to be turned now. This interview between us must be final, and I promise you that after it you shall be safe from any persecution from me. Now, however, the present moment is my own. I have you in my power—and that power I intend to use!”
“An honorable and manly thing to say!” she panted, her eyes blazing and her lips curled. “Do you mean me to understand that you would use force to make me comply with your wish?”
“I mean just that,” he answered, bending over her with eyes that gave her the feeling of a physical touch. “I will prevent your leaving this room until you have honestly and fairly spoken to me, and have either confirmed or denied what your eyes plainly said to me yesterday.”