The scales hung long in trembling. They turned only when Summerlad unwisely, losing patience, sought to take by storm the lips she had not yet made up her mind to surrender, and thus aroused resistance till then dormant.
With an ease that in a queer, detached way she found surprising, she managed to break his embrace. Nevertheless the effort left her faint. She faltered to the fireplace and rested a hand on the mantel, her forehead upon the hand. Lynn followed, stood by her side, not touching her but keeping her enveloped in the lethargizing knowledge of his nearness, his strength, his passion. Over and over he murmured gently: "Linda, Linda, Linda...." Shaking from head to feet, she made a feeble sign of appeal. He disregarded this entirely, his arms again stole round her and would have drawn her to him but that, of a sudden, her mind caught at a straw of memory, she drew away, with a hand upon his bosom put him firmly from her, eyes that were melting none the less denying him, lips that were a-quiver with "Yes" resolutely pronouncing "No!"
"You are cruel...."
"No, Lynn. Wait. Tell me something.... You say she—your wife agreed to divorce you?"
"I made her promise," Summerlad asserted grimly.
"When was that? The day she disappeared? The day I found her lying senseless in her room?"
"I suppose so. Does it matter? Well, then—yes."
"You'd just left her when I found her?"
"I daresay—approximately."
"Tell me what you said to persuade her."