“So you couldn’t do it after all, Dan?” The familiar note of half-indifferent mockery sounded in her voice.
Storran stared at her. “By God! I don’t believe you are a woman!” he exclaimed thickly.
She regarded him contemplatively, her hands lightly touching the red marks scored by his fingers on the whiteness of her throat.
“Do you know,” she replied dispassionately, “I sometimes wonder if I am? I don’t seem to have—feelings, like other women. It doesn’t matter to me, really, a bit that I’ve—what was it you said?—smashed up your life. I don’t know that it would have mattered much if you had strangled me.” She paused, then stepped towards him. “Now you know the truth. Do you still want to kill me, Dan Storran! . . . Or may I go?”
He swung aside from her.
“Go!” he muttered sullenly. “Go to hell!”
CHAPTER XV
THE DAY AFTER
“Magda, how could you?” Gillian’s voice was full of blank dismay. “You ought to be thoroughly ashamed of yourself!”