"And you have not a word to say to me?" he asked. She looked up at him, and saw that the cicature on his face was becoming ominous; his eyes were bent upon her with all their forbidding brilliance, and he was assuming that look of angry audacity which was so peculiar to him, and which had so often cowed those with whom he was brought in contact.
"No other word, at present, George; I have told you that I am not at ease. Why do you press me now?"

"And you have not a word to say to me?" he asked. She looked up at him, and saw that the scar on his face was becoming ominous; his eyes were bent upon her with all their forbidding, angry brilliance.
"No other word, at present, George; I have told you that I am not at ease. Why do you press me now?"
