There was a dangerous note in his voice. The man had got beyond the stage to be played with. In the silence of the room Magda could hear his laboured breathing, feel his heart leaping against her own soft breast crushed against his. It frightened her.
“You’ll let me go if I do?” The words seemed to run into each other in her helpless haste.
“I’ll let you go.”
“Very well.”
Slowly, reluctantly she lifted her face to his and kissed him. But the touch of her lips on his scattered the last vestige of his self-control.
“My beloved . . . Beloved!”
He seized her roughly in his arms. She felt his kisses overwhelming her, burning against her closed eyelids, bruising her soft mouth and throat.
“I love you . . . worship you——”
“Let me go!” she cried shrilly, struggling against him. “Let me go—you promised it!”
He released her, drawing slowly back, his arms falling unwillingly away from her.