“Very well, then,” he said.  “Come into the other room—­you seem cold.”

She went with him submissively.  The fire had sunk low, and he replenished it.  The hunting crop that he had brought from her father’s house lay on the table with Jerry’s banjo.  He picked it up and put it away in a corner.

“Sit down,” he said.

She sank upon the sofa, hiding her face.  He took up his stand on the rug, facing her.

“Now,” he said quietly, “do you remember my telling you that you had married a savage?  I see you do.  And you are afraid of me in consequence.  I am a savage.  I admit it.  I hurt you that night.  I meant to hurt you.  I meant you to see that I was in earnest.  I meant you to realize that you were my wife.  I meant—­I still mean—­to master you.  But I did not mean to terrify you as you were terrified, as you are terrified now.  I made a mistake, and for that mistake I desire to apologize.”

He stooped and drew one of her hands away from her face.

“You defied me,” he said.  “Do you remember?  And I am not accustomed to defiance.  Nor will I bear it from anyone—­my wife least of all.  I am not threatening you; I am simply showing you what you must learn to expect from me, from the savage you have married.  It is not my intention to frighten you.  I am no longer angry with either you or the young fool whom you call your friend.  By the way, I have not done him any violence.  He has merely gone to find a lodging for himself and for the motor in the village.  Yes, I turned him out of his own house, but I might have done worse.  I meant to do much worse.”

“Yes?” murmured Nan.  “Why—­why didn’t you?”

“Because,” he answered grimly, “I found that I had only fools to deal with.”

He paused a moment.

“Well, now for your punishment,” he said.  “As you remarked just now, I have you absolutely at my mercy.  How much mercy do you expect—­or deserve?  Answer me—­as my wife.”

But she could not answer him.  She only bowed her head speechlessly against the strong hand that still held hers.

She could feel his fingers tightening to a grip.  And she knew herself beaten, powerless.

“Listen to me, Anne!” he said suddenly; and in his voice was something that she had only heard once before, and that but vaguely.  “I am going to give you a fair chance, in spite of your behaviour to me.  I am willing to believe—­I do believe—­that, to a certain extent, I drove you to this course.  I also believe that you and your friend Jerry are nothing but a pair of irresponsible children.  I should like to have caned him, but I had nothing but a loaded horse-whip to do it with, so I was obliged to let him off.  Now listen!  I am going downstairs and I shall stay there for exactly half an hour.  If between now and the end of that half-hour you come to me with any good and sufficient reason for letting you go back and live apart from me in your father’s house, I will let you go.  You have asked me to remember that you are my wife.  Precisely what you meant by that you have left me to guess.  You will make that request of yours quite plain to me within the next half-hour.”