A fierce wave of red went over his face. For a moment his eyes shone. Then a look of despair and horror made him frightful, and stirred even in her a sensation of pity.
He began to tremble.
“Don’t! Don’t!” she said, putting out her hands and moving away.
“She can’t know!” he said, trembling more violently.
“She does know.”
“She wouldn’t have come. She doesn’t know. She doesn’t know.”
“She does know. Now I’m ready, if you want to go to the rooms.”
Dion went white to the lips. He came towards her. His eyes were so menacing that she felt sure he was going to do her some dreadful injury; but when he was close to her he controlled himself and stood still. For what seemed to her a very long time he stood there, looking at her as a man looks at the heap of his sins when the sword has cloven a way into the depths of his spirit. Then he said:
“You’re free.”
He went out of the room, leaving the door open. A moment later Mrs. Clarke heard the front door shut, and his footsteps on the stone stairs outside. They died away.