With a suddenness that took him greatly aback, and for an instant at a disadvantage, she freed herself from his grasp, and stood facing him like a young tragedy queen in all her furious anger and outraged pride.
"Do not utter another word, Lester Armstrong!" she panted, "you only add insult to injury—why it seems to me some horrible trick of the senses—some nightmare—to imagine even that I could ever have cared for you—to have believed you noble, honorable and—a gentleman. Why, you almost seem to be a different person in his guise—you are so changed in tone and manner from him to whom I gave my heart. The affection that I thought I had for you died a violent death."
She did not notice that the man before her started violently at these words—but the look of fear in his eyes gave place the next instant to braggadocio.
He would have answered her, but she held up her little white hand with a gesture commanding silence, saying, slowly, with quivering lips:
"I repeat, the affection that I believed filled my heart for you died suddenly when I told you that I had changed my mind about eloping, and instead of studying my desires you insisted that the arrangement must be carried out."
"My—my—love for you prompted it, Faynie," he exclaimed, in a maudlin voice. He knew he had the name wrong, but could not think what it was to save his life. "Come, now, let's kiss and make up, and love each other in the same old way, as the song goes."
"What! love a man who thrusts me into a coach despite my entreaties, takes me to a church, and with a revolver pressed close to my heart—beneath my cloak—forces me to become his wife! No. No! I loathe, abhor you—open that door and let me go!"
With an unsteady spring he placed himself between her and the door, crying angrily as he ground out a fierce imprecation from between his white teeth. "Come, now, none of that, my beauty. You're my wife all right, no matter how much of a fuss you make over it. I want to be agreeable, but you persist in raising the devil in me, and though you may not know it, I've a deuce of a temper when I'm thoroughly roused to anger—at least that's what the folks who know me say.
"Sit right down here now, and let's talk the matter over—if you want to go home to the old gent, why I'm sure I have no objection, providing he agrees to take your hubby along with you. There'll be a scene of course—we may expect that—but when you tell him how you love me, and couldn't live without me and all that—and mind, you put it on heavy—it will end by his saying: 'Youth is youth, and love goes where it is sent. I forgive you, my children; come right back to the paternal roof—consider it yours in fact.' And when the occasion is ripe, you could suggest that the old gent start your hubby in business. Your wish would be law; he might demur a trifle at first, but if you stuck well to your point he'd soon cave in and ask what figure I'd take to—"
"Stop!—stop right where you are, you mercenary wretch!" cried Faynie in a ringing voice. "I see it all now—as clear as day. You—you—have married me because you have believed me my father's heiress, and—"