“Do you need me to tell you? You have tasted the luxury of power. You are welcome to proclaim yourself ‘Alcide’ if you will. She made a step forward. The law would accord her all her previous rights: she would return to the exact status out of which in his madness he had taken her. ‘I might have killed you,’ she snapped, ‘if only you did not say anything. She put her clothes back on, 118 lipstick smeared all over her face. “He has a stubbly yellow moustache, weak eyes, and great horrid hands. Well, come back in half an hour. The haste to send her upon her way now had but one interpretation—the recognition of his own immediate danger, the fear that if this tender association continued, he would end in offering her a calamity quite as impossible as that which had happened—the love of a man who was in all probability older than her father! The hurt was no less intensive because it was so ridiculous. CHAPTER I.
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