"Who have you got on the string now!" he broke out—"you little adventuress! What damned fool is damned fool enough to marry you when anybody could get you for less if they care to spend the time on you——"
Suddenly his arm shot out and he wrenched her bridle, dragging her horse around and holding him there.
"Are you mad?" she whispered, white to the lips. "Take your hand off my bridle!"
"For another word," he said between clinched teeth, "I'd ride you down and spoil that face of yours! Hold your tongue and listen to me. I've stood all I'm going to from you. I've done all the cringing and boot-licking that is going to be done. You're the sort that needs curb and spurs, and you'll get them if you cut up with me. Is that plain?"
She had carried no crop that morning or she would have used it; her bridle was useless; spurring might have dragged them both down under the horses' feet.
"For the last time," he said, "you listen to me. I love you. I want you. You haven't a cent; you could fill out any check you chose to draw over my signature. Now if you are not crazy, or a hopeless fool, behave yourself."
A great sob choked her; she forced it back and sat, waiting, eyes almost closed.
"Strelsa, answer me!"
There was no reply.
"Answer me, for God's sake!"