She said there was no other way to get them to stop their constant screaming. " "And, what good would that do?" replied Ireton, sarcastically. “Nigel, don’t you understand. Presently he resumed: “I believe I must be in love. “I hate you because you are the Devil! Rot in Hell!” She was shocked at her own accusation, how she had savored the words. She saw herself begin a slow, sinuous dance: and stop suddenly in the middle of a figure, conscious that the dance was not impromptu, her own, but native—the same dance she had quitted but a few minutes gone. "But you've done well to trust me. " "That's not likely to be the case, if you go on in this way," replied Thames, sharply. Every now and then something familiar in her tone, the poise of her head, the play of her eyes startled him.
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