Still Millicent lay perfectly motionless. "I am listening."
He knelt down beside her. "Have I hurt you?"
A little groan was all her answer. Michael turned her face to his.
His hands were on her shoulders. She winced.
"Have I hurt you? I am sorry. I was too rough."
Millicent raised herself to her knees. Her face was tense, agonized.
She put her hands up to her head and held it.
Michael thought he heard a sob. Shame or pain convulsed her body; she rocked herself backwards and forwards.
"I am sorry I was so brutal," he said. "But you deserved it. I had to do it. I always have to be unkind—you are so foolish."
Still Millicent wept. She removed her hands and gazed at him with wet, mournful eyes. Michael put his arm round her and tried to raise her.
"You were very naughty—why were you so naughty?"
One of his arms was supporting her as she struggled to her feet. The next instant Millicent swung herself nimbly round and flung herself on his breast. He was helpless. Her hands were clasped behind his head.