"I came to see if you were better," he muttered, in a tone of apology.
The strange woman raised her body slightly on the couch and extended her hand toward the door.
"Go!" she said briefly.
Iphicrates hesitated and cleared his throat, trying to meet the scornful gaze directed upon him. Finally he mustered up his courage with an effort.
"This is my house," he said doggedly.
"Go," the stranger repeated in a tone of unutterable contempt. "Must I speak again?"
Iphicrates slowly turned and went, slinking from the room before the blaze of her anger like a beaten hound.
"Why are you so hard upon him?" Artemisia asked.
"Because he deserves it," the stranger said. "Has he not held you captive here?"
"Who art thou who knowest so much of my affairs?" the girl demanded suddenly.