You see, I know him. Better you
should know him, too. Why do you smile?"
"Why is it better I should know?"
He went very pale, and said between his teeth:
"That you may not waste your time; there is love waiting for you."
But Gyp still smiled.
"Was it from love of me that you made him drunk last night?"
His lips quivered.
"Gyp!" Gyp turned. But with the merest change of front, he had put
himself between her and the door. "You never loved him. That is my
excuse. You have given him too much already--more than he is worth. Ah!
God! I am tortured by you; I am possessed."
He had gone white through and through like a flame, save for his
smouldering eyes. She was afraid, and because she was afraid, she stood
her ground. Should she make a dash for the door that opened into the
little lane and escape that way? Then suddenly he seemed to regain
control; but she could feel that he was trying to break through her
defences by the sheer intensity of his gaze--by a kind of mesmerism,
knowing that he had frightened her.
Under the strain of this duel of eyes, she felt herself beginning to
sway, to get dizzy. Whether or no he really moved his feet, he seemed
coming closer inch by inch. She had a horrible feeling--as if his arms
were already round her.
With an effort, she wrenched her gaze from his, and suddenly his crisp
hair caught her eyes.
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