So he did doubt her; he did not believe. All her lies were discounted; all his conversation was merely ironical and make-believe. He held her in a vice, and release would come only when she submitted to a revolting caress.
"I will not--I dare not," she stammered, shrinking against the wall in an agony of physical fear from an object which a guilty imagination revealed as loathsome to sight and touch; "you--you have no right to----"
"The right of love," said the weary voice.
"You have no proof."
"The cypher letters;" and a lean hand held out a packet, drawn from under the discoloured blankets.
"For one kiss, madame--for one kiss."
"Ugh!" groaned Leah, and snatched eagerly.
Packet and hand disappeared swiftly, and the voice whistled in a jeering manner. "One kiss, madame, one kiss."
She still fought. "My mouth is sore. I am----"
"One kiss--one kiss--the last and the best; or--or----"