"You are not flinching," he said, trying to rouse her. "Surely you are
not flinching at the last moment?"
No light of intelligence came into her eyes, no change passed over her
face. But she heard him--for she moved a little in the chair, and slowly
shook her head.
"You planned this marriage of your own freewill," pursued the captain,
with the furtive look and the faltering voice of a man ill at ease. "It
was your own idea--not mine. I won't have the responsibility laid on
my shoulders--no! not for twice two hundred pounds. If your resolution
fails you; if you think better of it--?"
He stopped. Her face was changing; her lips were moving at last. She
slowly raised her left hand, with the fingers outspread; she looked at
it as if it was a hand that was strange to her; she counted the days on
it, the days before the marriage.
"Friday, one," she whispered to herself; "Saturday, two; Sunday, three;
Monday--" Her hands dropped into her lap, her face stiffened again; the
deadly fear fastened its paralyzing hold on her once more, and the next
words died away on her lips.
Captain Wragge took out his handkerchief and wiped his forehead.
"Damn the two hundred pounds!" he said.
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