He read it through, unable to believe what he saw written before him. And as he read his face lost all its tender, caressing look and took on, instead, a savage, incredulous expression.
Women had always come to him easily, as easily as Pansy herself had come. But they had not withdrawn themselves again: he had done the withdrawing.
For some moments he just stared at the note.
He, flouted and scorned and played with by a girl! He, to whom all women were but toys! He, the Sultan of El-Ammeh!
Le Breton was like one plunged suddenly into an icy cold bath.
The unexpectedness of it all left him numb. Then a surge of hot rage went through him, finally leaving him cold, collected, and furious.
She had dared to scorn him, this English girl! Dared to hurl his love and protestations back into his teeth. Protestations such as he had made to no other woman.
It was the greatest shock and surprise Le Breton had had during the course of his wild life of unquestioned power and limitless money.
He was in no mood to see the love her note breathed. He saw only one fact—that he had been cast aside.
A woman had dared to act towards him as he had often acted towards women.