His answer was to seize her hands.
“Let me go!” she ordered.
“I’ll never let you go,” said he.
“Let me go. You are a brave man to restrain a woman! Shall I call a servant?”
She struggled fiercely, panting.
“I’ve got to make you understand me,” he protested, holding fast her hands. “I didn’t mean any harm to your traditions or your customs. Whatever you love I’ll try to love too—just so long as it doesn’t hurt you. But this does hurt you. Tell me one thing: Why did you leave Paris? What was it made you change your mind?” He saw in her face the signs of an effort to disregard the demand. “Tell me why you left Paris,” he repeated.
Her eyes wavered. The lids fluttered.
“That night,” she began in an uneven tone, “I gave you to understand, that night——”
“You gave me to understand that you loved me.”
He said it fearlessly, and, on the edge of a sob, she fearlessly answered him. She had ceased to struggle. Her hands lay still and cold in his.