"Of what do you accuse me?"
He did not speak. But the look he gave her sent the hot blood curdling to her cheeks; ebbing back, it left them paler than before.
"You have not answered my question!" he said at last.
She lifted heavy lids and eyed him wondering, as one waking from a dream.
"What do you want of me?"
"What is Stefano Maconi to you?" he queried more fiercely, grasping her wrists, and compelling her to raise her eyes to his.
"Stefano Maconi is nothing to me!" she replied hoarsely.
Never had he spoken thus to her. As their eyes met, she noted that he had changed. With a quick pang she saw how thin and haggard he had grown.
"Is this the truth?" Gropingly her hands went out to him, her witch-like eyes held his own and like the cry of a tortured soul it came from her lips:
"It is the truth!"