THE LUCK OF THE IRISH
decency left in his soul. "Better let me go, Norton. No good can possibly come of this. You'll be sorry. There must be some good in you, just enough not to let you do such a horrible thing as this. To bring me to such a house! Oh! You had better let me go."
"I offered you marriage in Venice, and you declined it. I was a fool, I suppose, but I meant it that morning. Now you're going to come to me of your own free will."
"No. You forget one thing."
"And what's that?"
"I can always die. I'm not your kind."
"You are going to be," he said, quietly. "Die? They always talk of dying, but they don't. Oh, you need not tremble! I sha'n't lay a hand on you until you come to me. I might have put you on board the yacht, but I did not think it would pay. You had to be broken first."
"I can not be kept here forever."
"I can and will keep you here until you break. No woman ever played your game successfully with me."
She knew now from his tone that he was without mercy. "But how many games have you played with women? Let us speak the truth to each other. When I first met you I thought you might inspire me with love."
He interrupted. "And when you learned that I couldn't, you said good-by, didn't you? Yes, let us speak the truth. You thought it over carefully. I could feather your nest comfortably.
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