The hot life in her body told her
against her moral will that she must escape, and her soul, moving in
her and speaking to her, told her that now, more than ever, she must
stay.
"Oh, poor, poor Aunt Anne," she said again.
He moved and put his arm around her. He had meant it simply as a
movement of sympathy and protection, but when he felt the warmth of
her body against his, when he realised how she went to him at once
with the confidence and simplicity of a child, when he felt the hot
irregular beat of her heart, his own heart leapt, his arm was
strengthened like a barrier of iron against the world.
He had one moment of desperate resistance, a voice of protest
calling to him far, far away. His hand touched her neck; he raised
her face to his and kissed her, once gently, kindly, then,
passionately again and again.
She shivered a little, as though surrendering something to him, then
lay quite still in his arms.
"Maggie! Maggie!" he whispered.
Then she raised her head and herself kissed him.
There was a noise on the door. They separated; the door opened and
in the sudden light a figure was visible holding a glass.
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