“Father, be gentle with me.”
“Quick, hussy.”
“I can’t, I can’t.”
Radamanth took her firmly by the wrist and brought her with no very considerate care into the parlour.
“Now,” he said, thrusting her into a chair, “you atom of ingratitude, tell me what you know.”
Lilith began to sob. She hid her face behind her fingers and dared not look at Radamanth. The goldsmith chafed and paced the room, hectoring her.
“Don’t think to fool me,” he said; “you know more yet; you would have answered before if there had been any truth in you.”
Radamanth’s harshness seemed certainly to calm the girl, and to conjure up some passing antagonism in her heart.
“The blame is yours, father.”
“Impertinent child.”