Loosing her wrists he turned to the table, and took another cigarette. This, however, he lighted for himself.
Pansy watched him, marvelling at the cool way he had taken her refusal.
Considering the fire and temper in the man and his air of never having been thwarted in any way, it was hardly what she had expected. She put it down to the fact that she was completely at his mercy, alone and helpless in this barbaric city. Her heart ached at the thought that through no fault of his own she could only give him pain in return for all his kindness.
Going to his side, she laid a slim hand on his sleeve.
"Raoul, I hope you know you're awful nice about things," she said.
He glanced at her. At the beautiful eyes raised to his with infinite gentleness in their velvety depths.
And he laughed.
"Am I?" he said.
Then he laughed again. And his mirth was a mingling of bitterness and savagery.