She shrank away from him, and the movement seemed to rouse him to a white heat of fury. Instead of releasing her, he pulled her closer to him.
"Don't shrink like that!" he exclaimed savagely. "By God! Do you think I'll stand being treated as though I were a leper? You avoid me all you can—detest the sight of me, I suppose! But remember one thing—you're going to be my wife. Nothing can alter that, and you belong—to—me"—emphasising each word separately. "You mayn't give me your smiles—but I'm damned if you shall give them to any other man."
He thrust his face, distorted with anger, close to hers.
"Now do you understand?"
She struggled in his grasp like a frightened bird, her eyes dilating with terror. She knew, only too well, what this big primitive-souled man could be like when the devil in him was roused, and his white, furious face and blazing eyes filled her with panic.
"Roger! Let me go!" she cried, her voice quick with fear. "Let me go!
You're hurting me!"
"Hurting you?" With an effort he mastered himself, slackening his grasp a little, but still holding her. "Hurting you? I wonder if you realise what a woman like you can do to a man? When I first met you I was just an ordinary decent man, and I loved and trusted you implicitly. But now, sometimes, I almost feel that I could kill you—to make sure of you!"
"But why should you distrust me? It's Isobel—Isobel Carson who's put these ideas into your head."
"Perhaps she's opened my eyes," he said grimly. "They've been shut too long."
"You've no right to distrust me—"