"My darling," he suddenly cried out, "I cannot let you go."
She felt the blood rushing to cover her.
"On your honour, Peter."
For a moment he was checked. "Tell me again to leave you," he said.
She faced him, and her eyes were fast held. He read the whole of her secret. In a flash his arms were about her.
"You cannot tell me to go."
She rested helplessly. Peter held her with a fierce pride. He would not surrender her. She closed her eyes upon a whispered entreaty as he touched her lips. He felt the stir of her heart, and the jealousy of possession utterly claimed him. Something wild and cruel lit in him. He kissed her upon the face and neck. She felt them as the kisses of mere hunger, and she suddenly rebelled.
"Peter, you dishonour me." Her voice smote into him a revelation. Already the passion had gone out of him. It had died in the act of touching her. He knew what he had done; he was utterly ashamed. His arms fell away from her. He stood with bent head waiting for her decree.
"I will write to you, Peter."
He accepted his dismissal, turning without a word. Lady Mary heard that the door had closed. She stood silently for a moment. Then, all that evening, she lay back in her chair stone still. Her eyes were tight shut; but at long intervals a tear was forced from under her lids, and fell insensibly.