“I’m not obstinate,” she cried breathlessly, holding one of his hands tightly in both her own. “I’m just trying to cling as hard as I can to life—to our happiness. Please give me a chance, Arnold! Please, please!”
“Confound such obstinate wrong-headedness!” he exploded. “No, I tell you! No! And that settles it!”
She shrank back.
“Oh!” she cried. Her breast began to rise and fall tumultuously, and her cheeks slowly to redden. “Oh!” she cried again. Then her words leaped hotly out: “Oh, you bigot!”
“If to stand by what I know is right, and to save you from making a fool of yourself, is to be a bigot—then I’m a bigot all right, and I thank the God that made me one!”
“And you think you are going to save me from myself?” she demanded.
He stepped nearer, and towering over her, he took hold of her shoulders in a powerful grasp and looked down upon her dominantly.
“I know I am! I am going to make you exactly what I want you to be!”
Her eyes flamed back up into his.