She heard him cry, almost angrily: "Oh, damn it, I must not!"
And with that she was in his arms, sobbing, panting, going to heaven against his lips. . . .
Then fell a lull. She was conscious that his embrace relaxed a trifle, heard the murmur of his consternation: "Oh, this is madness, madness!"
But when she tried to release herself his arms tightened.
"No!" he said thickly, "not now--not after this. Don't. I love you!"
She braced her hands against his breast, struggled, thrust him away from her, found herself free at last.
"You don't!" she sobbed miserably; "You don't love me. Don't lie to me! Let me go!"
"Why do you say that? You love me, and I--"
"Don't say it! It isn't true! I know. I threw myself at your head. What else could you do? You care nothing about me; to you I'm just one more silly woman. No; let me be, please! You do not love me--you don't, you don't, you don't!"
He shrugged, relinquished his effort to recapture her, muttered uncertainly: "Blessed if I know!"