She sat with folded arms, bidding him a silent defiance.
"Sonia, I'm not disobeyed—much," he told her very quietly.
Her brave attempt to look unwaveringly into his purposeful black eyes broke down precipitately.
"I'll tell you!" she promised breathlessly, and, as he resumed his breakfast, smiling, "You can see how you like it, you brute!"
I have often thought over the story she told him without ever quite understanding its spirit. There was no longer the old endeavor to shock for the sake of shocking, but something more angry and bitter, as though she were matching his account of the risk he had undergone in reaching her by proving him a fool for his pains. The effect on his mind was shown in his brief, acid comment at the end:
"And men have been ready to spoil their lives for you!"
"I didn't think you'd like it when you got it," she taunted.
O'Rane looked wistfully out of the window.
"And I've dreamed of you in five continents," he murmured half to himself. "Lying out under the stars in Mexico, just whispering your name in very hunger.... Ever since I was a boy at Oxford, and you promised ... you promised...."
"You've waited patiently for your revenge, David."