132 “I thought you wanted me—you told me so when we kissed in the park!” He cried. And God had let him do it! He was—and now he perfectly understood that he was—treading the queerest labyrinth a man had ever entered. The chair is in the veranda. At times he seemed to be claiming pity from her; at times he was threatening her with her check and exposure; at times he was boasting of his inflexible will, and how, in the end, he always got what he wanted. Unless he has killed someone. Her heart ached; and that puzzled her. Sir Rowland waved his hand, and the attendant withdrew.
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