"He is! He is! Mr. Curtis told me so."
"If he isn't, I'll murder him!" Brett Mercer vowed, and flung her
fiercely from him.
She fell with violence and lay half-stunned, while he, blinded with
rage, possessed by devils, strode forward into that silent place,
leaving her prone.
She thought later that she must have fainted, for the next thing she
knew--and it must have been after the passage of several minutes--was
Mercer kneeling beside her and lifting her. His touch was perfectly
gentle, but she dared not look into his face. She cowered in his arms in
mortal fear. He had crushed her at last.
"Have I hurt you?" he said.
She did not answer. Her voice was gone. She was as powerless as an
infant. He raised her and bore her steadily away.
When he paused finally, it was to speak to Beelzebub, who was holding
the horses. And then, without a word to her, he lifted her up on to a
saddle, and mounted himself behind her. She lay against his breast as
one dazed, incapable of speech or action. And so, with his arm about
her, moving slowly through a world of shadows, they began the long, long
journey back.
They travelled so for the greater part of the night, and during the
whole of that time Mercer never uttered a word.
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