Still not a word; only that same steady look.
“Elice,”—the man’s hands were on her shoulders, holding her immovable,—“answer me. This is unbearable. Don’t you love me? Say it. I must know.”
Bit by bit the long lashes dropped, until the dark eyes were hid. “I can’t say it yet,” she said, “you know that. Don’t compel me to.”
“Cannot or will not?”
Still no answer, merely silence.
Just noticeably the man’s big hands tightened their grip. “I can make you very happy, Elice, girl,” he voiced swiftly; “I know it; because I have the ability and I love you. I’ll take you away, to any place in the world you wish to go, stay as long as you wish, do whatever you choose. I’ll give you anything you want, anything you ever wanted. I have the power to do this now, and I’ll have more power in future. Nothing can stop me now or prevent, except death alone. 299 Say the word and I’ll not go West to-morrow. Instead, we’ll begin to live. We’re both starved for the good things that life has to offer. We’ll eat our fill together, if you but say the word. We’ve wasted years—both of us, long, precious years. There’s a big, big debt owing us; but at last, at last—”
“Darley Roberts!”
The man suddenly halted, passive.
“You don’t realize what you’re doing, what you’re saying. It’s unworthy of you.”
A moment longer the grip of the big hands still clung as it was. They dropped, and the man drew back.