There was now a note of impatient authority in his tone that aroused Allison’s antagonism and a spirit of recklessness. Then, too, his love-making was so repulsive to her she felt that she could not endure it a moment longer. Perhaps, she thought, if she should confess the truth to him it would put an end to his hopes and emancipate her from all persecutions of this nature in the future.
“Yes,” she admitted, after a moment of hesitation, a vivid flush suffusing her face, “that is the reason.”
“Aha!” he breathed, hoarsely, the veins upon his temples standing out hard and full. “So you confess it! Who is he? Who is he?”
His tone was almost savage, his aspect so vindictive that Allison was aroused in proportion.
She turned upon him with a haughty air, and met his lowering eyes with a clear, cold glance.
“That is my own secret,” she frigidly returned.
“Ha, ha! So you fondly believe it is a secret, do you?” he mockingly retorted. “You imagine that no one has eyes or perceptions to discern the signs of the times? My haughty little lady, your ‘secret’ is no secret; I have read your heart, like an open book, for many a long year.”
“Very well, then; if you are so well versed in mind reading there is no need of your asking information regarding what you already know,” said the fair girl, with quiet sarcasm.
“Perhaps not; but I wish to have my suspicions corroborated by the testimony of your own lips. I want to be sure that my fate is irrevocably sealed before I bow to it. So, tell me, is it Gerald Winchester whom you love? Is he the rival upon whom you expect to bestow your peerless self and your enviable fortune?”
Again Allison flushed a deep and conscious crimson. The man’s manner had grown so coarse and repulsive, while his mocking reference to Gerald set all her pulses tingling with indignation and defiance, and a desire to stand up in defense of her lover.