“How dare you make your vile proposition to me?” she found voice to utter scathingly.
“Tut, tut; you need not be so prudish, little Eva. I know all about your shady past—how your cousin killed a man that he found in your room at midnight. Do you pretend to have reformed your morals now?”
How she hated the leering smile, the sneering tone; how she longed to strike him in his face, to throw open the door and denounce him to every one.
Yet her horror of a scene and of another scandal associated with her pure name made her hesitate and answer brokenly:
“I am under a cloud, Doctor St. Clair, but I am innocent. Doctor Ludington came to my room that night in a professional capacity alone, and I must beg you not to regard me as a sinner, but as a martyr.”
His low, incredulous laugh grated harshly on her ears, and stung her into adding:
“I am loath to betray you and make a scandal of your vile propositions to a supposedly defenseless girl, but I had better say that the next insult from you will be reported to my future husband.”
“You are to marry!” he exclaimed, in astonishment, mixed with grief and chagrin.
With flashing eyes and her head thrown back in pride, Eva answered:
“I am betrothed to Doctor Rupert, and we are to be married soon.”