She could not
say anything because she was in a dream too. She could only feel his
hand stroking her face. He seemed to take her silence for consent.
He suddenly kissed her furiously, pressing her head back until it
hurt. That woke her. She pushed his arms back and sprang up. Her
hands were trembling. She shook her head. "No, Martin. No, not now."
"Why not?" He looked at her angrily from the chair. His face was
altered, he was frowning, his eyes were dark. "I'm not going to stay
now." Her voice shook in spite of herself. With shaking hands she
patted her dress. "Why not?" he asked again. "I'm not. I promised
the aunts. Not now. It would spoil everything." "Oh, very well."
He was furious with her. He wouldn't meet her eyes. "Not now." She
felt that she would cry; tears flooded her eyes. "It's been so
lovely . . . Martin . . . Don't look like that. Oh, I love you too
much!" She broke off. With a sudden movement she fell at his feet;
kneeling there, she drew his hands to her face, she kissed them, the
palms of his hands over and over again. His anger suddenly left him.
He put his arms round her and kissed her, first her eyes, then her
cheeks, then, gently, her mouth.
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