‘Yes, I had to. I had to bring you back your——’
He was going to shelter behind her cloak, and then was ashamed of such trifling.
She made a movement to get up, but the sofa was a very low one, and she rather ridiculously bumped down on it again; and before she could make another attempt he had flown across to help her.
‘No, no,’ said Catherine, whose indignation was greater than any she had felt in her life, pushing aside his outstretched hands.
So then he lifted her up bodily, indifferent to everything else in the world; and having set her on her feet he held her like that, tightly in his arms, and didn’t care if he had to die for it.
There was a moment’s complete silence. Catherine was so much amazed that for a moment she was quite still.
Then she gave a gasp—muffled, because of his coat, against which her face was pressed. ‘Oh——’ she gasped, faint and muffled, trying to push him away.
She might as well have tried to push a rock away.
‘Oh——’ she gasped again, as Christopher, still not caring if he had to die for it, began kissing her. He kissed what he could—her hair, the tip of one ear, and she, aghast, horrified, buried her face deeper and deeper into his coat in her efforts to protect it.
Oh, the outrage—never in her life—how dared he, how dared he—just because she was alone, and had no one to defend her——