"I can endure no more," cried Leonore, with almost a scream. "Be quiet—be quiet—they will hear you,—don't you know that they will hear you?"
"What if they do?" He was past that. "You are here. We are together. That is enough." He seized her hand, but she fought and struggled, and eventually wrenched herself free. "You—you dare?" she panted.
"Oh, I dare—now. I dare anything now."
"You dare to forget who you are? And who I am?"
"Yes, even that. It is nothing when we love each other"—and again he laid hold of her.
"Let me go—let me go."
"But——?"
"If you have not altogether lost your senses, Mr. Andrews, you will leave me this moment—this moment;" she stamped her foot,—"and never, never cross my path again."
"But, Leonore—?"
"Leonore? Oh, this is too insulting—" a burst of tears. "What have I done to be thus degraded?—" and she shook the hand torn from his grasp as though it had been poisoned.