FRANKENSTEIN
went directly to her room. She was a light sleeper, and his step awakened her.
"Who is it?" she cried in affright.
"It's me." His voice was steadier now, but grim.
"What do you want? Didn't I tell you never to come here again? Get out or I'll have you taken out."
She sprang up in bed, glaring angrily at him.
His hands twitched nervously, as if her will were conquering him and he were uneasy, but he held her eye with his own.
"You put me out to-night," he said.
"Yes, and I'm going to do it again. You're drunk."
She started to rise, but he took a step towards her and she paused. He looked as she had never seen him look before. His face was ashen and his eyes like fire and blood. She quailed beneath the look. He took another step towards her.
"You put me out to-night," he repeated, "like a dog."
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