He had swept her pride utterly out of her reach.

But surely that was not her only weapon.
What of her hatred--that hatred that had driven her to this mad flight with Jerry?
Surely out of that she could fashion a shield that all his savagery could not pierce.

Moreover, he had given her his word to abide by her decision whatever it might be, so long as she could convince him of that same hatred that had once blazed so fiercely within her.
But what had happened to it, she wondered?
It had wholly ceased to nerve her for resistance.

How was it?
Was she too physically exhausted to fan it into flame, or had he torn this also from her to wither underfoot with her dead pride?
Surely not! With all his boasts of mastery, he had not mastered her yet.

She would never submit to him--never, never! Crush her, trample her as he would, she would never yield herself voluntarily to him.