“Come with me. I’ll take you home. It’s a better way to talk.”
Once more that sense of dominance on his part, that power of compulsion. She yielded, feeling all the time that she should not; he called out to the cabman, “Anywhere for a little while.” When she was seated beside him he began at once.
“Listen to me, Jennie, I want you. Tell me something about yourself.”
“I have to talk to you,” she replied, trying to stick to her original line of defense.
“About what?” he inquired, seeking to fathom her expression in the half light.
“I can’t go on this way,” she murmured nervously. “I can’t act this way. You don’t know how it all is. I shouldn’t have done what I did this morning. I mustn’t see you any more. Really I mustn’t.”
“You didn’t do what you did this morning,” he remarked, paradoxically, seizing on that one particular expression. “I did that. And as for seeing me any more, I’m going to see you.” He seized her hand. “You don’t know me, but I like you. I’m crazy about you, that’s all. You belong to me. Now listen. I’m going to have you. Are you going to come to me?”
“No, no, no!” she replied in an agonized voice, “I can’t do anything like that, Mr. Kane. Please listen to me. It can’t be. You don’t know. Oh, you don’t know. I can’t do what you want. I don’t want to. I couldn’t, even if I wanted to. You don’t know how things are. But I don’t want to do anything wrong. I mustn’t. I can’t. I won’t. Oh, no! no!! no!!! Please let me go home.”
He listened to this troubled, feverish outburst with sympathy, with even a little pity.
“What do you mean by you can’t?” he asked, curiously.