She went to her room with her heart aching and heavy.
Drawing aside one of the light muslin curtains, she stood at the window in her thin night-dress trying to refresh herself with a breath of outer air, even though it reeked of asphalt.
The door of her room opened and shut. She turned with a start. Morris was striding towards her, white of face and black of eyes. He wrapped her in a fierce hug. She was crushed against him so that it hurt her. His eyes were eating her face. They were hard, angry, yet burning with desire. It was almost the glare of hatred.
"I want you ... you're mine! How dare you keep me wanting you like this ... all these damnable weeks?"
Sophy stood rigid in his locked arms. That look in his eyes was awful to her.
"You hurt me, Morris ... let me go...." she said.
"No, I'll not let you go.... I'm master in this room...."
"Morris!"
"You'll take the consequences of making me hate you and love you at the same time! By God! you'll take the consequences...."
She felt very strong and cold—very fiercely cold all at once. Their eyes blazed on each other. They were like two enemies at grips rather than two lovers. Then his arms dropped. He laughed. He put up one hand over his face and went on laughing.