She wanted to cry out, so terrible was the sight, but his lips sealed her own. She lay helpless in his hold.
Afterwards she realized that she must have been near to fainting, for when at the end of those wild moments of passion he let her go, her knees gave way beneath her and she could not stand. Yet instinctively she gripped her courage with both hands. He had startled her, appalled her even, but there was a fighting strain in Sylvia, and she flung dismay away. She held his arm in a quivering grasp. She smiled a quivering smile. And these were the bravest acts she had ever forced herself to perform.
"You've done it now, partner!" she said shakily. "I'm nearly—squeezed—to death!"
"Sylvia!" he said.
Amazement, contrition, and even a curious dash of awe, were in his voice. He put his arm about her, supporting her.
She leaned against him, panting, her face downcast. "It's—all right," she told him. "I told you you might sometimes, didn't I? Only—you—were a little sudden, and I wasn't prepared. I believe you've been having a rotten time. Sit down now, and have something to eat!"
But he did not move though there was no longer violence in his hold. He spoke deeply, above her bent head. "I can't stand this farce much longer. I'm only human after all, and there is a limit to everything. I can't keep at arm's length for ever. Flesh and blood won't bear it."
She did not lift her head, but stood silent within the circle of his arm. It was as if she waited for something. Then, after a moment or two, she began to rub his sleeve lightly up and down, her hand not very steady.
"You're played out, partner," she said. "Don't let's discuss things to-night! They are sure to look different in the morning."
"And if they don't?" said Burke.