. . He pressed her
close to him; he kissed her furiously, savagely, her eyes, her
mouth, her cheek. She could feel his heart pounding beneath his
clothes like a savage beast. His hands were all about her; he was
crushing her so that she was hurt, but she did not feel that at all;
there was something else . . .
With all her might she fought down her resistance. This was her
duty. She must obey. But something desolate and utterly, utterly
lonely crept away and cried bitterly, watching her surrender.
CHAPTER III
SKEATON-ON-SEA
She was swinging higher, higher, higher--swinging with that
delightful rhythm that one knows best in dreams, lazily, idly, and
yet with purpose and resolve. She was swinging far above the pain,
the rebellion, the surrender. That was left for ever; the time of
her tears, of her loneliness was over. Above her, yet distant, was a
golden cloud, soft, iridescent, and in the heart of this lay, she
knew, the solution of the mystery; when she reached it the puzzle
would be resolved, and in a wonderful tranquillity she could rest
after her journey. Nearer and nearer she swung; the cloud was a
blaze of gold so that she must not look, but could feel its warmth
and heat already irradiating about her.
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