"That was yesterday," he told her grimly. "I have forfeited my
popularity since then."
A slow, painful flush rose in Stephanie's drawn face, but she shrank no
longer from his look. "And you have gained nothing in exchange," she
said, her voice very low.
"Except what I desired to gain," said Pierre Dumaresq.
She made a slight, involuntary movement, and instantly her brows
contracted. She closed her eyes with a shudder. The pain was almost
intolerable.
A moment later she felt his strong arms lift her and a sudden passion of
misery swept over her. Where was the use of feigning strength when he
knew so well her utter weakness; of fighting, when she was already so
hopelessly beaten; of begging his mercy even when he had warned her so
emphatically that she must not expect it?
Despair entered into her. She could resist him no longer by so much as
the lifting of a finger. And as the knowledge swept overwhelmingly upon
her, the last poor shred of her pride crumbled to nothing in a rush of
anguished tears.
Pierre said no more. His hard mouth grew a little harder, his steely
eyes a shade more steely--that was all. He bore her unfaltering through
the saloon to the state cabin beyond, and laid her down there.
In another second she heard the click of the latch, and his step upon
the threshold. Softly the door closed. Softly he went away.
VI
And Stephanie slept.
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