She was not conscious of having spoken the words, and was terrified when she heard them echo through the silent room. She felt as if she must fall. She put her hand on a chair back to steady herself, not daring to raise her eyes.
Then the Beggar Man gave a dry little laugh.
"Why?" he asked.
"Why?—why?" She echoed the word stammeringly, and he went on ruthlessly:
"Because you are afraid of being left? Is that it? You need not be. Digby will marry you as soon as I have set you free. I have not hurt him—yet! I have told him that I am waiting to see first how he treats you."
"I don't want him!" The words were a heartbroken cry. "Oh, I never, never did want him."
There were lines of pain in the Beggar Man's face as he looked at her. His lips moved twice before he could frame any words.
"Who or what do you want then?" he asked hoarsely.
"You!" She answered him in passionate desperation. It was her last throw for happiness.
She counted the flying seconds before he spoke, with her thudding heartbeats, and they seemed to stop when he laughed.