“Sonia, then, if you prefer it. I want simply to make plain the fact that I am speaking to _you_, the woman who bears that name, and not to the princess, as you are supposed to be.” “Go on,” she said. He was silent. She kept her eyes fixed on the dog until she was afraid that her stubbornness would look childish, or, worse even than that, timid. Then she looked up. The next instant she wished that she had not, for the compelling look that met her own did for a moment make her feel afraid. She summoned all her force, however, and looked at him defiantly, her head raised, her eyes steady. “I want you to explain to me what you meant yesterday,” he said. “What I meant yesterday? What do you mean?” “What you meant yesterday, driving home in the cab.” “What I meant yesterday by driving home in the cab? I suppose my meaning was the obvious one--that I was tired and ill, and that my own carriage was not there.” The timidity which she had felt before grew now into positive terror, as she felt the masterful force of this man’s power over her. So strong was her sense of it that she felt absolutely reckless of what she said or did, so long as she was able to resist him. “You will not move me, or change my intention--my _determination_ to get an answer to my question. Your evasion of it is childish as well as useless.” “I will be childish if I choose. Who is to prevent me?” she said defiantly. “I will. I have no intention of submitting to any such childishness now. You are a woman, and you are the only woman who exists for me. In that character I mean to have your answer to my question.” His words made her heart throb quick, with a feeling outside of the terror of self-betrayal by which she was possessed. She gave no outward sign, however, as she looked down, and began once more to pull at Inkling’s ears. Before she realized what he was doing, Harold had bent forward, and lifting the dog from her lap, he set him on the floor, with a shove that sent him half-way across the room. As the little creature ran off frightened, Harold turned to the woman facing him, and forcibly took both her hands in his. She jerked them from him with a powerful wrench, as she sprang to her feet, retreating a few paces until she was stopped by some benches and easels huddled together on that side of the room. “Don’t touch me!” she cried, in a voice of real terror. He let his hands drop to his sides, but he followed, and stood very close to her, as he said: “You had better answer me, and let me have my way. I am not to be turned now. This interview between us must be final, and I promise you that after it you shall be safe from any persecution from me. Now, however, the present moment is my own. I have you in my power--and that power I intend to use!” “An honorable and manly thing to say!” she panted, her eyes blazing and her lips curled. “Do you mean me to understand that you would use force to make me comply with your wish?”