"Don't come in!" she cried, retreating up against the dresser and turning her shoulder with the hair flowing over it toward him. "How dared you come in here without knocking! Go!"
He was crying, not seeming to know it, because he continued, even as she stood blazing at him, to stand staring through the rain of tears.
"Harry, you're forgetting yourself. You mustn't give way. Your grandmother is over the worst now—"
Suddenly he was on his knees, his back round and shaken with sobs.
"Lilly—Lilly—can't you see?"
"See what? Is anything wrong? Harry," she cried, stooping to shake him by the shoulder, "has anything happened again? Are you in trouble?"
He would not rise, following her, to her horror, by walking on his knees, pressing and pressing the hem of her garments, and before she realized it burning his kisses down into it. She fought him off, tearing from his grasp and staggering back against the wall.
"Harry—you're in trouble again."
He caught her bare arm, pressing his lips into the yielding flesh.
"Lilly, I can't hold back any longer. I love you. I'm all alone. With gramaw here I could hold back—somehow—but now—Lilly—Lilly—I love you."