“Yes,” he answered. “I was with her, as you say, a few days ago. Well?”
She moved restlessly in her seat. “That’s not the way to ask my forgiveness,” she said.
Suddenly his shadowy bulk seemed to loom up above her. He gripped her wrist with his left hand, and drew her towards him; while the fingers of his right hand laid themselves upon her throat. His face came close to hers.
“How dare you!” he whispered. “How dare you think of me like that? D’you mean to say that if all this were true, if I were living with that woman, you would be prepared to forgive me?”
She did not speak. “Answer me!” he cried, and his arms crushed her to him.
“I don’t know,” she gasped. “I only know I love you, Daniel.”
He loosed his hold upon her. “Oh, you’re tainted,” he exclaimed. “Intrigues, jealousies, deceptions, quarrels, reconciliations—they’re all part of your scheme of life. I suppose you revel in them, just as you revel in the latest divorce case at your gossiping tea-parties, and the latest dresses from Paris, and the latest dancing craze, and the latest thing in erotic pictures or sensuous music....”
Muriel put her hands over her ears. “I won’t listen!” she cried. “You don’t know what you’re saying.”
He stood in front of her, his hands driven into the pockets of his coat. His massive head and shoulders shut out the misty stars, and as she looked up at him he appeared to her as a black and vaporous elemental risen from the ancient soil of Egypt.
It was evident that he was trying to control his anger; and when he spoke again his voice was quiet and restrained.