"Now I'll slip out."
"No, not yet. I sha'n't let you!"
She sank down on the chaise-longue in the darkness, trying to draw him with her.
"I shall not stay, I promise you."
His voice was cold and indifferent. For all that she drew him to her, by main force, and pressed her mouth to his, her perfumed arms about his stubborn neck.
"If you do love me, Arthur, make me know that you do! Show me it is myself that you care for, show me, show me! You can if you want to."
After a brief struggle she felt his muscles relax.
"Ah … Tu m'aimes encore! Tu m'aimes encore!"
"Sh-sh—let me go, Thérèse …"
"No, no …"