Now he laughed with her, vacantly, as though not knowing the cause of his mirth.
"You are only my slave, after all," said Unorna scornfully.
"I am only your slave, after all," he repeated.
"I could touch you with my hand and you would hate me, and forget that you ever loved me." This time the man was silent.

There was a contraction of pain in his face, as though a violent mental struggle were going on within him.
Unorna tapped the pavement impatiently with her foot and bent her brows.
"You would hate me and forget that you ever loved me," she repeated, dwelling on each word as though to impress it on his consciousness.

"Say it.

I order you." The contraction of his features disappeared.
"I should hate you and forget that I ever loved you," he said slowly.
"You never loved me." "I never loved you." Again Unorna laughed, and he joined in her laughter, unintelligently, as he had done before.

She leaned back in her seat, and her face grew grave.