Sofia answered nothing to that, for a long time she said nothing, but sat pondering....
And Victor was speedily provided with another interest which engrossed him to the exclusion of further efforts to bait a victim defenseless against his insolence.
When for the third time after that narrow scrape at the gates the man roused up to peer back through the rear window of the limousine, Sofia heard a harshly sibilant intake of breath between shut teeth, and surmised the discovery that the car which had so narrowly missed blocking their escape had picked up the trail, and was now in hot chase.
Even youth, however, could distill but slender hope from this. The pace was too terrific at which Victor’s car was thundering through the night-bound countryside, it seemed idle to dream that another could overhaul it, even though driven with as much skill and maniacal recklessness. And Sofia returned to thoughts to which Victor’s innuendo had given definite shape and colour, if with an effect far from that of his intention. Threatened, the spirit of the girl responded much as sane young flesh will to a cold plunge. She had forgotten to tremble, and though still tense-strung in every fibre was able to sit still, look steadily into the face of peril, and calculate her chances of cheating it.
Presently, in a tone so even it won begrudged admiration, she asked:
“Where are you taking me?”
“Do you really care?”
“Enough to ask.”
“But why should I tell you?”
“No reason. I presume it doesn’t really matter, I’ll know soon enough.”