"Kiss me, Peter."
The words were hot upon his cheek.
Peter put forth his whole strength, and she staggered away from him. There was a short silence. She had fallen back from the excess of his recoil. He saw her dimly rise from among the hay.
"You beast!"
The words hissed at him in the dark. Venomous anger was in her tone, and bitter contempt.
There was a silence in which their pulses could be heard. Then she spoke again.
"Why did you come to me?"
Peter could not answer. His soul was a battlefield between forces stronger than himself. She walked to the door, and Peter stared vacantly at her going. The next moment he was alone.
"Why did you come to me?"
The question beat at Peter's brain all through the dreadful night. Scarcely had he got back to his room than the storm burst from the four quarters with incredible light and clamour. But Peter's ears were deaf and his eyes were blind. He sat at his window, but heard neither the rain rushing in the valley below, nor the intolerable din in the sky above him where still the stars were clear.