"Well, can't you say something?" he asked roughly, annoyed by her
persistent silence.

"I don't see that there's anything for me to say," she answered.

"Oh, well now then," he muttered; quite disconcerted.

She raised her eyes from the ground, and for the first time looked
full at him, in her expression both curiosity and resentment.

"It is perfectly intolerable," she said with a heaving breast.
"Will you tell me who you are?"

"I've told you one thing," he answered sullenly, his eyes on fire.
"I should have thought that was enough. I'll tell you nothing more."

"I think you are the most horrid man I ever met," she cried. "And
the very, very ugliest--all that hair on your face so that no one
can see anything else. What are you like when you cut it off?"

"Does that matter?" he asked, in the same gruff and surly manner.

"I should think it matters a good deal when I ask you," she
exclaimed. "Do you expect any one to care for a man she has never
seen--nothing but hair. You hurt my wrists awfully that night,"
she added resentfully. "And you've never even hinted you're sorry."

His reply was unexpected and it disconcerted her greatly and for
the first time, for he caught both her wrists in his hands and