“Again, your hatred in your words.”
Martin nodded once more.
“That’s right.”
“What will you do if I don’t permit you——” Roberts stopped.
“Propose something,” commanded Martin, rising.
“I do.” The adviser picked up his stick and walked uncertainly toward the door. As he turned, he seemed to be smiling. “I have proposed something.”
With an easy stride Martin went to him. He took the stick from his hand and placed it against the wall. He reached for the door and closed it. Deliberately, he caught Roberts by the waist and bent him backwards until he fell. Then he poured one bitter kiss after another—his teeth cutting the adviser’s tender lips and cheeks, his sweat falling like molecules of light.
Roberts screamed and turned his face away.