It was to be a battle of
wills. His rough speech revealed this to her. And she was ill-equipped
for the conflict. His dominant personality seemed to deprive her of even
the desire to fight. She remembered, with a sudden, burning flush, that
she had clung to him only a little while before in her extremity of
loneliness. Doubtless he remembered it too.
Yet she braced herself for the struggle. He could not, after all, compel
her to accept his generosity.
"I am sorry," she said; "I am very sorry. But, you know, there is
another way in which you can help me."
"What is that?" said Mercer.
"If you could tell me of some respectable lodging," she said. "I have
enough for one night if the charges are moderate. And even after
that--if Robin doesn't come--I have one or two little things I might
sell. He is sure to come soon."
"And if he doesn't?" said Mercer.
Her fingers gripped each other.
"I am sure he will," she said.
"And if he doesn't?" said Mercer again.
His persistence became suddenly intolerable. She turned on him with
something like anger--the anger of desperation.
"Why will you persist in trying to frighten me? I know he will come.
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