Growing fairly black with rage, he became threatening; accused me of leading him on, or at least of permitting his love, only to thrust it back upon him. He took me by the shoulders roughly, looking into my face with rage and hatred. I looked steadily back. I had a vague realization of his great strength, and of his fiendish temper when aroused, but was at that instant beyond physical fear; my desperation at what I then felt was an ineradicable stain upon my soul was so extreme that mere danger to life was as nothing. I must have met him unflinchingly; I think I even said, “Kill me if you like!” Then a terrible remorse came upon me. Suddenly I seemed to feel wholly to blame, and with that began to soften towards him; he softened then, and wept. One thing he said then pierced me to the heart: “Why did you do it, Doctor? Why did you let me love you--life was hard enough before--why did you do it?” And as he talked that way my agony grew apace. I believed myself guilty--responsible for it all; I believed (what I knew later was not true) that I must have seen it all from the beginning--my consent to his calls, our handclasps at parting, were blackest evidence of the steps I had permitted to lead up to this. My remorse and misery changed his attitude entirely; he then began accusing himself. Presently we fell to discussing it more calmly. But at the recollection of my scornful words, the fire leaped in his eyes, and a malicious purpose again plainly showed itself: “You could never love me if I were ‘the last man on earth’--you--_girl_! You don’t know what you are saying. Do you want to rouse the very devil in me? Don’t you know that if I were free, free to make you love me, you would be mine--_mine_! I’d make you take back those words--I’ve a mind to make you take them back--_I’ve a mind to make you love me now_!” He was sitting or kneeling beside me, his face close to mine. I looked in his eyes, and the very devil of daring and adventure must have been in me at that instant, for I was fully conscious of a challenge passing into my look. I think I said no word, but fairly defied him to make me love him--if he could. He fixed my glance imperiously, and with his face close to mine he hissed: “Kiss me--on the lips--kiss me! You don’t dare to--_you’re afraid_!”