I was only a woman, he'd argued, no doubt--an emotional woman, already wrought up to a high pitch of nervous excitement.

Perhaps he had expected to have easy work with me.

And I don't think that my silence after his last words discouraged him.

He imagined me writhing at the alternative of giving up Raoul or seeing him ruined, and he believed that he knew me well enough to be sure what I would do in the end.
"Well ?" he said at last, quite gently.
My eyes had been bent on my lap, but I glanced suddenly up at him, and saw his face in the light of the street lamps as we passed.

Count Godensky is not more Mephistophelian in type than any other dark, thin man with a hook nose, keen eyes, heavy browed; a prominent chin and a sharply waxed, military moustache trained to point upward slightly at the ends.