"It's about you! But I said Betty had——Who are you?"
He bent closer.
"If I didn't tell you you might remember later. Anyway, I wouldn't want to fight a person whose eyes were closed."
Her lips half parted. She appeared a trifle frightened. She made a movement as if to rise.
"Just a minute," he said, harshly.
He called on the hatred that had increased during the hours of his mental and physical slavery, a hatred to be appeased only through his complete mastery of her.
"It won't take much to remind you," he hurried on. "Although you talk to me as if I were a man now, last summer I was a beast because I had the nerve to touch you when you were thrown from your horse."
She stood up quickly, reaching out for the alcove curtain. Her contralto voice was uneven.
"Stop! You shouldn't have said that. You shouldn't have told me."
All at once she straightened, her cheeks flaming. She started for the ballroom. He sprang after her, whispering over her shoulder: