He hesitated. Should he rush her defenses, bury her protests in kisses? Or should he talk her out of this harsh mood? Last night she had been his. There were moments during the day when she had responded to him as a musical instrument does to skilled fingers. But for the moment his power 137 over her was gone. And he was impatient of delay.
“What’s the matter with you?” he asked roughly.
“We’ll start at once.”
“No.”
“Yes.”
Frightened though she was, her gaze held steadily to his. It was the same instinct in her that makes one look a dangerous wild beast straight in the eye.
“What’s got into you?” he demanded sullenly.
“I’m going home.”
“After a while.”
“Now.”