"Then I refuse to go," he decided quietly. "I
refuse." And he bowed toward the door to put a period to our interview.
But here my patience broke. I took him by the arm, and held him
ungently. "Words! Words! Words!" I mocked at him. "What would you
have me say? That I love you? In faith, I don't. You irritate me;
annoy me. But save you I will, if only for my peace of mind. Look at
me. Look at me, I say."
He obeyed. All his hard nonchalance had returned.
"Do you trust me?" I demanded.
"Yes, monsieur."
"Then you will come with me?"
"No, monsieur."
This was madness--and it took time. "Indeed you will come," I said
between my teeth. "And that without more words. Good-by."
But he caught my sleeve. "Then you take me against my will."
I brushed him away. "And against mine, too, if you balk my wishes at
every turn. But I will take you. It is the only chance you have, and
if you are mad enough to refuse it, I must force it on you. Remember,
I shall use force. Now stay by the window, and await my signal. I
shall come when I can."
He followed to the door. "You will not need to use force with me,
monsieur," he said soberly. "If you insist on taking me, I shall
follow your directions, and use what wit I can.
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