“And you love him?” said Macdonald in Gaelic.
For answer she, realizing him in a blaze of fury, struck him full across the face with her free hand; he flushed scarlet but never relaxed his hold of her.
There was the sound of steps without and a thundering on the door.
“Jock!” cried the Countess, “Jock!”
Breadalbane had been forced back into the window-seat; the huge figure of Ian almost hid him from her view; Ronald looked over his shoulder at them.
“Jock Campbell is doomed,” he said gravely. “Answer me—do you want him saved?”
Even in that moment she was arrested by the serious passion of his face.
“Tell me,” he insisted.
“What do you think!” she cried fiercely.
“Yes or no?” said Ronald.