“Because I love you, Muriel,” he whispered; and the hoarseness of his voice would have seemed comical to her had she been in a normal condition.
Suddenly he put his arm about her shoulder and pulled her down to him, so that her head lay upon his breast and her hair touched his face. She did not resist; the drowsy warmth of the afternoon, the Oriental beauty of their surroundings, and the still unevaporated magic of that great enchanter, Sleep, held her powerless.
Again and again he kissed her—kissed her mouth and her eyes, her forehead and her cheeks, her throat and her hair; and with each touch of his lips the fires of her womanhood leaped up within her, so that in these few moments the whole course of her life, so it seemed to her, was changed, and new directions, new vistas, were revealed in intense illumination.
At last, dazed and flushed, she released herself from his hold and stood before him, her fingers clasping and unclasping themselves, her eyes wild and yet tender in their wildness.
“Rupert!” she gasped. “O Rupert!”
Suddenly she turned and ran to the companionway, and the next moment had disappeared.
Rupert sprang from his chair, and banged his fist into the palm of his other hand. “Gad!” he cried aloud, and there was exultation in his voice. He walked the length of the deck, with his hands in his pockets; then he sat down, and immediately got up again. His knees seemed to be trembling under him. He wondered whether that was a symptom of love, and decided that it was not. No he was not in love; he was just excited. And no wonder! Muriel was one of the great heiresses of England, and one of the most charming girls on the market, so to speak; and he had practically got her! Well, perhaps he was in love: her kisses were wonderful; the feeling of closeness to her was exquisite! How delighted his father would be! “Lady Muriel Helsingham,” and, in time to come, “Lady Helsingham of Singleton!” And all that money!
He lit a cigarette, puffed frenziedly at it, and threw it into the river. Then he, too, went below.
Muriel’s cabin was opposite his own, and at the door he paused and listened. He thought he heard her sigh, and his heart heat faster. She was madly in love with him! Why hadn’t he acted sooner? His school-friend had been perfectly right: a man has only got to take his courage in both hands and attack a woman forcibly, and she succumbs.
He went into his cabin and shut the door briskly. He sat down on the edge of the narrow bed, and stared critically at himself in the mirror opposite. He was quite good-looking. He wondered how Lord Blair would take it. After all, it was not a bad match for his daughter: he was the son and heir of a Peer of the Realm, and his father had a very nice little estate.