I am not afraid of you—give me that key, she demands, refusing to be cowed even at the table of her enemy.

He drew in his breath, struck the table, and swore to himself, “By hell! I hate them.”

“I am not afraid of you!” exclaimed Catherine, who could not hear the latter part of his speech. She stepped close up; her black eyes flashing with passion and resolution. “Give me that key: I will have it!” she said. “I wouldn’t eat or drink here, if I were starving.”