“Good. He must not know. It’s better not.”
“Why?”
“Well, because your father has a long-standing quarrel with Miller, has he not? If he knew we were friends he might not like it. Some men have curious prejudices,” he added.
His explanation apparently satisfied her, but he, on his part, returned to his previous questions regarding myself.
“Tell me,” he urged, “who is this fellow Leaf? If you were fond of him I surely have a right to know who and what he is?”
“He’s a gentleman whom I first knew years ago, soon after I came home from school.”
“And you fell in love with him, like every school-girl does, eh?”
She nodded in the affirmative, but vouchsafed no further information.
“Well,” he said, in a tone of authority, “you will not meet him again under any consideration. I forbid it. Remember that.”
She was silent, her head downcast, for in that man’s hands she was as wax. He held her in some thraldom that I saw was as complete as it was terrible. His very presence seemed to cause her to hold her breath, and to tremble.