But he laughed and, crushing her against him, kissed her fiercely.
Le Breton knew his case was hopeless. No amount of persuasion would bring the girl back to his arms. He was no longer a polished man of the world, but the Sultan of El-Ammeh, a barbaric ruler who knew no law save his own desire.
Pansy was too furious to be afraid. With all her might she struggled to get away from his arms and the deluge of hot, passionate kisses, not because of the danger oozing from the man, but because she knew he had held and kissed that other woman.
But all her struggles were in vain. She was helpless against his strength; crushed within his arms; almost breathless under the force and passion of the kisses she could not escape from.
"If you go on behaving in this brutal manner I shall scream," she panted presently.
Her words sobered him.
The road lay not twenty yards away, and her screams might bring a dozen people to her rescue. He remembered that he was in Grand Canary, where even he had to conform with rules, not in El-Ammeh, where none would dare question his doings.
He let Pansy out of his arms.
"Look what a state you've put me in!" she flashed the moment she was free, as she endeavoured to tidy her torn and crumpled dress with hands that shook with anger. "You're a brute. A savage. I hate you!" she finished.
But Le Breton just stood and laughed.