"It does not." He confronted her so that they almost touched. "Is it possible that you can think of that? I replied to your father that I was going to take you anyway."
"You—are going—to—take me anyway! What do you mean, Prince Koltsoff?"
"Mean! What do I mean! Why, no less than that dowry or no dowry, you are mine."
"But you have n't asked me. I have said nothing to make you believe that."
"Eh?" Koltsoff tossed his head dazedly.
"You said nothing!" he exclaimed as she remained silent. "You said—Bah! Are mere words only to serve? You lay in my arms not a day since. What words could have been so eloquent? And your eyes—the look in them! Words! Ah, Anne, could I not see? Could I not read?" His hand was on her arm but she pulled sharply back.
"Please, Prince Koltsoff! Listen! You—since you have been willing to recall it to me—did take me in your arms." Indignation was rapidly mastering her. "I did not lead you to do it. I did not want you to. I am—not that kind. I was tired, weak in mind and body and, yes,—under your control, somehow. You took advantage of it. I didn't know then—I fancied it might be love, don't you know. I even asked you if it was—"
"You asked me. I replied. You did not deny."
"No, but I deny now: It was not love."
"Not love!" Koltsoff moved close to her. "Then may I ask what it was? Surely you have not questioned my motives?"