Her
own tornado of indignation was checked. She answered him almost
involuntarily.
"Jerry Lister."
He frowned as if trying to recall the owner of the name, and again
without her conscious will she explained.
"You saw him that night at the ball. They were together all the evening."
The frown passed from his face.
"That--cub!" he said slowly. "And"--his eyes were searching hers closely;
he spoke with unswerving determination--"where have they gone?"
She withstood his look though she felt its compulsion.
"I refuse to tell you that."
"You know?" he questioned.
"Yes, I know."
"Then you will tell me." He spoke with conviction. She felt as if his
eyes were burning her.
"Then you will tell me," he repeated, as if she had not heard him.
"I refuse," she said again; but she said it with a wavering resolution.
Undoubtedly there was something colossal about this man. She began to
feel the grip of his fingers upon her wrist. The pain of it became
intense, yet she knew that he was not intentionally torturing her.
"You are hurting me," she said, and instantly his hold relaxed. But he
did not let her go.
"Answer me!" he said.
"Why should I answer you?" It was the last resort of her weakening will.
He betrayed no impatience.
"You will answer me for your sister's sake," he told her grimly.
"What do you mean? You will follow her?"
"I shall follow her.
Pages:
158
159
160
161
162
163
164
165
166
167
168
169
170
171
172
173
174
175
176
177
178
179
180
181
182