You jeer at me for wearing them.
I take them off." And as she sat there with her head erect Thresk knew why he had bidden her to wear them.

There were bruises upon her throat--upon each side of her throat--the sort of bruises which would be made by the grip of a man's fingers.

"Good God!" he cried, and before he could speak another word Stella's moment of defiance passed.

She suddenly covered her face with her hands and burst into tears.
Ballantyne pushed back his chair sulkily.

Thresk sprang to his feet.