He laughed. “You are afraid of me. You are afraid to let me kiss you, because you are afraid of loving me. This afternoon—here—I all but kissed you. I mistook you for Death. I was enamoured of Death. I was a fool. That is what YOU are, you incomparable darling: you are a fool. You are afraid of life. I am not. I love life. I am going to live for you, do you hear?”
She stood with her back to the postern. Anger in her eyes had given place to scorn. “You mean,” she said, “that you go back on your promise?”
“You will release me from it.”
“You mean you are afraid to die?”
“You will not be guilty of my death. You love me.”
“Good night, you miserable coward.” She stepped back through the postern.
“Don’t, Zuleika! Miss Dobson, don’t! Pull yourself together! Reflect! I implore you... You will repent...”
Slowly she closed the postern on him.
“You will repent. I shall wait here, under your window...”
He heard a bolt rasped into its socket. He heard the retreat of a light tread on the paven hall.