But strive as she might, the fact remained that
she was horribly, painfully frightened. There was something about this
man which it seemed futile to resist, something that dominated her,
something against which it hurt her to fight.
She heard his ring punctually upon the stroke of five, and she went
herself to answer it.
He greeted her with his usual serenity of manner.
"All alone?" he asked, as he followed her into the little drawing-room
in which he had proposed to her so short a time before.
She assented nervously.
"Jerry went into the city. He won't be back yet."
"That's kind of you," said Kenyon quietly.
She did not ask him to sit down. They faced each other on the hearthrug.
The strong glare of the electric light showed him that she was very
pale.
Abruptly he thrust out his hand to her.
"You must forgive me for bullying your brother the other day," he said.
"Really, he deserved it."
She glanced up quickly.
"Jerry doesn't understand," she said.
He kept his hand outstretched though she did not take it.
"I don't understand, either," he said.
"Do you really want to shake hands with me?" she murmured, her voice
very low.
"I want to hold your hand in mine, if I may," he answered simply. "I
think it will help to solve the difficulty. Thank you! Yes; I thought
you were trembling. Now, why, I wonder?"
She did not answer him.
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