"I might--if I couldn't manage you any other way." "Roger!" There was almost a note of fear in her quick, astonished exclamation.
With his arm gripped round her she recognised how utterly powerless she would be against his immense strength, and something flint-like and merciless in the expression of those piercing eyes which were blazing down at her made her feel, with a sudden catch at her heart, as though he might actually do the thing he said.
"I hope it won't come to beating you," he resumed in a lighter tone of voice.

"But"-- grimly--"not even you, when you're my wife, shall defy me with impunity." Nan drew herself out of his arms.
"Well, I'm not your wife yet," she said, trying to laugh away the queer, unexpected tensity of the moment.

"Only a very hard-working young woman, who has a concerto to play to you." He frowned a little.
"There's no need for you to work hard.

I'd rather you didn't.

I want you just to enjoy life--have a good time--and keep your music as a relaxation." Her face clouded over.
"Oh, Roger, you don't understand! I _must_ do it.