"Oh, please, will you go to Avery?" she begged breathlessly. "I think she is frightened at the storm."
Piers left the piano with a single, lithe movement that carried him to the window in a second. He passed Jeanie and was out on the terrace almost in one bound.
He discerned Avery on the instant, as she discerned him. A vivid flash of lightning lit them both, lit the whole scene, turned the night into sudden, glaring day. Before the thunder crashed above them he had caught her to him. They stood locked in the darkness while the great reverberations rolled over their heads, and as he held her he felt the wild beating of her heart against his own.
She had not resisted him, she did not resist him. She even convulsively clung to him. But her whole body was tense against his, tense and quivering like a stretched wire.
As the last of the thunder died, she raised her head and spoke.
"Piers, haven't you tortured me enough?"
He did not speak in answer. Only she heard his breath indrawn sharply as though he checked some headlong word or impulse.
She stifled a great sob that took her unawares, and even as she did so she felt his arms slacken. He set her free.
"There is nothing to be afraid of," he said. "Better come indoors before the rain begins."
They went within, Jeanie pressing close to Avery in tender solicitude.