"Piet!"
He leaned forward.
"What is it, Anne?"
He could feel her breath quick and short upon his hand. She seemed to be making a supreme effort.
"Piet!" she said again.
"I am listening," he responded, with absolute patience.
She turned one cheek slightly towards him.
"If I loved anybody," she said, rather incoherently, "I—I'd find some way of letting them know it."
He leaned his head once more upon his hand.
"I am a rough beast, Anne," he said sadly. "My love-making only hurts you."