"You have had a fall from your horse," he exclaimed. "You are lame!"
Then quickly, "That was why Childe Harold was trembling and standing on
three feet! By Jove!"

Then he sat down on the nail keg and began to laugh. He laughed for a
full minute, but she saw he did not take his eyes from her.

"You are in as unpleasant a situation as a young woman can well be," he
said, when he stopped. "You came to a dirty hole to be alone with a man
who felt it safest not to keep his appointment. Your horse stumbled and
disabled himself and you. You are twenty miles from home in a deserted
cottage in a lane no one passes down even in good weather. You are
frightened to death and you have given me even a better story to play
with than your sister gave me. By Jove!"

His face was an unholy thing to look upon. The situation and her
powerlessness were exciting him.

"No," she answered, keeping her eyes on his, as she might have kept them
on some wild animal's, "I am not frightened to death."

His ugly dark flush rose.

"Well, if you are not," he said, "don't tell me so. That kind of
defiance is not your best line just now. You have been disdaining me
from magnificent New York heights for some time. Do you think that I am
not enjoying this?"

"I cannot imagine anyone else who would enjoy it so much." And she knew
the answer was daring, but would have made it if he had held a knife's
point at her throat.

He got up, and walking to the door drew it back on its crazy hinges
and managed to shut it close. There was a big wooden bolt inside and he
forced it into its socket.

"Presently I shall go and put the horses into the cowshed," he said.
"If I leave them standing outside they will attract attention. I do
not intend to be disturbed by any gipsy tramp who wants shelter. I have
never had you quite to myself before."

He sat down again and nursed his knee gracefully.

"And I have never seen you look as attractive," biting his under lip
in cynical enjoyment. "To-day's adventure has roused your emotions and
actually beautified you--which was not necessary. I daresay you have
been furious and have cried. Your eyes do not look like mere eyes,
but like splendid blue pools of tears. Perhaps _I_ shall make you cry
sometime, my dear Betty."

"No, you will not."

"Don't tempt me. Women always cry when men annoy them. They rage, but
they cry as well."

"I shall not."

"It's true that most women would have begun to cry before this. Th