"I was only a child when you married me, Max," she went on presently.
"I didn't realise what it meant for a husband to have some secret
business which he cannot tell his wife. But I know now what it means.
It's merely an excuse to be always with another woman--"
In a stride Max was beside her, his eyes blazing, his hands gripping
her shoulders with a clasp that hurt her.
"How dare you?" he exclaimed. "Unsay that--take it back? Do you hear?"
She shrank a little, twisting in his grasp, but he held her
remorselessly.
"No, I won't take it back. . . . Ah! Let me go, Max, you're hurting
me!"
He released her instantly, and, as his hands fell away from her
shoulders, the white flesh reddened into bars where his fingers had
gripped her. His eyes rested for a moment on the angry-looking marks,
and then, with an inarticulate cry, he caught her to him, pressing his
lips against the bruised flesh, against her eyes, her mouth, crushing
her in his arms.
She lay there passively; but her body stiffened a little, and her lips
remained quite still and unresponsive beneath his.
"Diana! . . . Beloved! . . ."
She thrust her hands against his chest.
"Let me go," she whispered breathlessly, "Let me go. I can't bear you
to touch me."
With a quick, determined movement she freed herself, and stood a little
away from him, panting.
"Don't ever . . . do that .
Pages:
216
217
218
219
220
221
222
223
224
225
226
227
228
229
230
231
232
233
234
235
236
237
238
239
240