"You don't dare doubt me."
This time he was clearly articulate, and betrayed a conviction that he had won the day: an impression borne out by the evident irresolution of the girl, prefacing her abrupt surrender.
"Very well," she said in a tone of resignation.
"You'll go?"
"Yes."
He moved aside, to give her way through the gate. But she hung back, with a glance for P. Sybarite.
"One moment, please," she said: "I must leave a message."
"Nonsense—!"
She showed displeasure in the lift of her chin. "I think I'm my own mistress—as yet."
He growled indistinguishably.