"No, he had mine. Didn't he give it to you?"
"He did not, so that's that. You better make for those trees."
"If you think I'm going to desert," began Flora stoutly.
"You're going to obey orders, my dear. Go on—push off."
There was a quality in his voice that compelled obedience.
"Oh, I hate you," said Flora. "Please, please let me stay."
But he was inexorable.
"They'll be here in a minute. Go!" he ordered.
And to hide her tears of rage and mortification Flora went.
Richard glanced over her shoulder at the oncoming lights.