Yet Brett certainly
spoke as though his cognisance of how matters stood betwixt herself and
Tony were based on something more substantial than mere guesswork.
"That, also, is possible," she answered non-committally.
"And just as well," commented Brett. "He's a harum-scarum rake of a boy.
All the same, as I told you once before, the past doesn't matter to me.
It's the future that counts."
He paused, as though he expected her to volunteer some reply. But she
merely eyed him with a look of steady indifference.
"You understand, Ann?" he said, with a species of urgency in his tones.
"It sounds quite simple," she replied shortly. "I think I understand plain
English--though what you say doesn't interest me. Do you mind releasing my
wrist, now?"
"You won't run away if I do?"
She shrugged her shoulders.
"Where could I run to--on the yacht? Besides, I've no wish for every one to
know about this ridiculous scene," she added scornfully, with a downward
glance at her prisoned wrist.
His eyes glinted as he released his hold, but he allowed the contemptuous
speech to pass without remark. She lifted her arm, frictioning her wrist
where his grip had scored a red mark round it.
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