He laid his lips on hers, and pressed her mouth in a passion of emotion that was almost an assault. And still the fire was about him. She clung to him with her thin arms.
"That's it," she whispered, in reply to his words.
Julian held her in silence, felt her heart beating, the piteous tenuity of her little body, the weak grasp of her arms round him. These things broke upon him one by one with a crescendo of meaning that came like a great revelation, came to him shod with flame, winged with flame, moving in flame, warm like flame.
"You starved for me, sold Jessie for me," he whispered. "How I love you!
How I love you!"
And he crushed her close in an embrace that was almost brutal.
The door bell rang. Julian let Cuckoo go.
"He has come for me," he said.
She knew it too, and looked at him with a piteous, greedy questioning.
"I hate him now," he said in answer.
The door of the room opened. They both turned towards it. Valentine entered.