“There’s time now,” he said, and again she heard in his voice the note of triumph that had so deeply disquieted her. “It’s not a bit of good trying to run away at this stage. You’re caught before you start.”
“Ah!” she said.
He held her fast. “Do you realize that?”
She was silent.
He held her faster still. “Frances! Put your arms round my neck and tell me—tell me you are mine!”
She shrank, hiding her face more deeply. He had lulled her distrust, but he had not gained her confidence.
“You won’t?” he said.
“I can’t,” she whispered back.
He felt for her face and turned it upwards. “You will presently,” he said, and bending, kissed her, holding her lips with his till she broke free with a mingled sense of shame and self-reproach.
“What is it?” he said, watching her, and she thought his face hardened. “You have changed since yesterday. Why?”