She threw back her head, a look of obstinacy about her lips, her slight figure straightened to the rigidity of defiance.
"I will not be forced," she said, in sharp, uneven tones.

"Mr.
Ratcliffe, you may go on persuading and arguing till doomsday.

I will not leave my father." Ratcliffe stood up abruptly.

A curious glitter shone in his eyes, and the light eyebrows twitched a little.

She felt that he had suddenly ceased to do battle with her, yet that the victory was not hers.