"
"What for? For this morning's work? Oh, no! There's no spite in you for
that. You forgave me. You saved me. You got the better of me, too. And
anyhow, what good would it be?"
"No, no good," she admitted.
In her heart she felt that she would not know how to do it; that if it
came to a struggle, she would have to drop the dagger and fight with her
hands.
"Listen. When we are going about the world together, you shall always
call me husband. Do you hear?"
"Yes," she said bracing herself for the contest, in whatever shape it
was coming.
The knife was lying in her lap. She let it slip into the fold of her
dress, and laid her forearms with clasped fingers over her knees, which
she pressed desperately together. The dreaded thing was out of sight at
last. She felt a dampness break out all over her.
"I am not going to hide you, like that good-for-nothing, finicky, sneery
gentleman. You shall be my pride and my chum. Isn't that better than
rotting on an island for the pleasure of a gentleman, till he gives you
the chuck?"
"I'll be anything you like," she said.
In his intoxication he crept closer with every word she uttered, with
every movement she made.
"Give your foot," he begged in a timid murmur, and in the full
consciousness of his power.
Anything! Anything to keep murder quiet and disarmed till strength had
returned to her limbs and she could make up her mind what to do.
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