"Yes, of course, of course!" hastily; "but Norine—see here—suppose in the future I did some great wrong—deserted you for instance—no, no! don't look at me like that—this is only a suppositious case, you know!"
The large dark eyes were fixed full upon him. He laughed in rather a flurried way, and his own shifted and fell.
"Go on," she said.
"Suppose I deserted you, and it was in your power to take revenge, you would hate me and take it—would you not?"
Into the dark, tender eyes there leaped a light—into the youthful, gentle face there came a glow—around the soft-cut, childlike mouth there settled an expression entirely new to Laurence Thorndyke. One little hand clenched unconsciously—she caught her breath for a second, hard.
"Yes," she said, "I would!"
The answer staggered him—literally and truly staggered him. He had not expected it—he had looked for some outbreak of love, some tender, passionate protest.
"Norine!" he cried, "you would! Do you know what you are saying? You would hate me, and ruin me for life if you could?"
She looked at him full.
"If you deserted me, would you not hate me? Would I not be ruined for life? And does not the Book of books say: 'An eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth, a life for a life.' Yes, Laurence—if I did not go mad and die, I would hate you more then I love you now, and be revenged if I could!"