She, with one
foot in life and the other in a nightmare, was at the same time inert and
unstable, and very much at the mercy of sudden impulses. She swerved,
came distractedly right up to the gate and looking straight into his
eyes: "I am not Miss Smith. That's not my name. Don't call me by it."
She was shaking as if in a passion. His eyes expressed nothing; he only
unlatched the gate in silence, grasped her arm and drew her in. Then
closing it with a kick--
"Not your name? That's all one to me. Your name's the least thing about
you I care for." He was leading her firmly away from the gate though she
resisted slightly. There was a sort of joy in his eyes which frightened
her. "You are not a princess in disguise," he said with an unexpected
laugh she found blood-curdling. "And that's all I care for. You had
better understand that I am not blind and not a fool. And then it's
plain for even a fool to see that things have been going hard with you.
You are on a lee shore and eating your heart out with worry."
What seemed most awful to her was the elated light in his eyes, the
rapacious smile that would come and go on his lips as if he were gloating
over her misery.
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