face and said in a voice that held not a trace of uncertainty,
‘No, Leon, I haven’t changed my mind about marrying you.’
‘You want to marry me—say it.’
‘I want to marry you.’
The dress left her body and she stood before his gaze, colour filtering into her cheeks.
‘How beautiful you are.’
Leon traced the pattern of her mouth and chin, his touch feather-soft as it reached her breast. One strap of her bra was slipped down and he looked his fill—and suddenly his gaze seemed lecherous. She found a tangle of thoughts and ideas spiralling in her mind, pictures of scenes such as this, but with other women involved. Sickeningly she was thinking: how many women’s breasts has he looked upon as he’s looking upon mine now? She saw these women as she was, totally under the domination of this man, their will-power sapped beneath the lustful, animal strength of his. And, lastly, she saw David, and an hotel bedroom where she was running willingly into his gentle, loving arms. A terrible shuddering seized her near naked body and a flood of tears, which must surely have been gathered in a cloud behind her eyes all the time, was released, blinding her vision.
‘What the hell’s wrong now!’ The fury in his voice came over to her, but that in his black eyes had to be imagined. She was sobbing hysterically and in his anger he did no more than grip her by the shoulders and shake her. ‘Pull yourself together!’ he thundered. ‘So much can be endured, but this is beyond everything! A moment ago you were happy, and now this absurd weeping. Pull yourself together, I say!’
She rubbed at her eyes and could see him as if through a mist. At least, she thought with a vague sense of wonder, his ardour seemed to have cooled. When she spoke it was in the soft, sweetly-modulated voice which David had so loved. And she said what was in her heart at this particular moment.
‘Can’t you see,
Leon, how it is with me? This was to have been my honeymoon night, the night that David and I would remember all our lives, no matter what pleasures were to come later.’ Her beautiful eyes, bright with tears, looked appealingly into his. ‘But instead of what I’d so eagerly looked forward to, I’m here, in the power of another man, a man who doesn’t love me, who has made my wedding day one of blackness and despair, who’s even thrown away my lovely dress— wh-which a w-woman saves and treasures, Leon, although you would not understand—’ She broke off as a great sob shook her body from head to foot. ‘It would be dishonest if I were to deny that you can tempt me, can force me to say things I don’t mean like—like wanting to marry you.’ Again she looked appealingly up into his face, noticing this time that although it was taut and forbidding it was by no means harsh. And at a little point in his throat a pulse seemed to be throbbing, as if it were an outlet for some kind of emotion. ‘Is it likely that I would mean it when I say I’ll marry you? I’m in love with someone else—Oh, don’t be angry!’ she cried, seeing his expression change. ‘I beg of you not to get—get into a temper with me again. I can’t stand much more—surely even you can see that?’
To her relief the fury that had darkened his face was only fleeting. He was listening again, intently, to what she was saying. ‘My heart is breaking, no matter what you believe. Here! It—it hurts,
Leon.... She put a hand to her breast, feeling the wild throbbing of her heart.
Leon seemed spellbound his dark eyes fixed, staring at the trembling hand that lay against her heaving breast. ‘Don’t hurt me any more,’ she pleaded. ‘Go away and leave me—if you have any sensibility at all you’ll do as I ask.’
He moved, to pick up the négligé he had bought her and which lay across the bottom of the bed. To her surprise he held it open and automatically she slipped into it. He turned her round, his long brown fingers gentle on her arms, arms he
‘No, Leon, I haven’t changed my mind about marrying you.’
‘You want to marry me—say it.’
‘I want to marry you.’
The dress left her body and she stood before his gaze, colour filtering into her cheeks.
‘How beautiful you are.’
Leon traced the pattern of her mouth and chin, his touch feather-soft as it reached her breast. One strap of her bra was slipped down and he looked his fill—and suddenly his gaze seemed lecherous. She found a tangle of thoughts and ideas spiralling in her mind, pictures of scenes such as this, but with other women involved. Sickeningly she was thinking: how many women’s breasts has he looked upon as he’s looking upon mine now? She saw these women as she was, totally under the domination of this man, their will-power sapped beneath the lustful, animal strength of his. And, lastly, she saw David, and an hotel bedroom where she was running willingly into his gentle, loving arms. A terrible shuddering seized her near naked body and a flood of tears, which must surely have been gathered in a cloud behind her eyes all the time, was released, blinding her vision.
‘What the hell’s wrong now!’ The fury in his voice came over to her, but that in his black eyes had to be imagined. She was sobbing hysterically and in his anger he did no more than grip her by the shoulders and shake her. ‘Pull yourself together!’ he thundered. ‘So much can be endured, but this is beyond everything! A moment ago you were happy, and now this absurd weeping. Pull yourself together, I say!’
She rubbed at her eyes and could see him as if through a mist. At least, she thought with a vague sense of wonder, his ardour seemed to have cooled. When she spoke it was in the soft, sweetly-modulated voice which David had so loved. And she said what was in her heart at this particular moment.
‘Can’t you see,
Leon, how it is with me? This was to have been my honeymoon night, the night that David and I would remember all our lives, no matter what pleasures were to come later.’ Her beautiful eyes, bright with tears, looked appealingly into his. ‘But instead of what I’d so eagerly looked forward to, I’m here, in the power of another man, a man who doesn’t love me, who has made my wedding day one of blackness and despair, who’s even thrown away my lovely dress— wh-which a w-woman saves and treasures, Leon, although you would not understand—’ She broke off as a great sob shook her body from head to foot. ‘It would be dishonest if I were to deny that you can tempt me, can force me to say things I don’t mean like—like wanting to marry you.’ Again she looked appealingly up into his face, noticing this time that although it was taut and forbidding it was by no means harsh. And at a little point in his throat a pulse seemed to be throbbing, as if it were an outlet for some kind of emotion. ‘Is it likely that I would mean it when I say I’ll marry you? I’m in love with someone else—Oh, don’t be angry!’ she cried, seeing his expression change. ‘I beg of you not to get—get into a temper with me again. I can’t stand much more—surely even you can see that?’
To her relief the fury that had darkened his face was only fleeting. He was listening again, intently, to what she was saying. ‘My heart is breaking, no matter what you believe. Here! It—it hurts,
Leon.... She put a hand to her breast, feeling the wild throbbing of her heart.
Leon seemed spellbound his dark eyes fixed, staring at the trembling hand that lay against her heaving breast. ‘Don’t hurt me any more,’ she pleaded. ‘Go away and leave me—if you have any sensibility at all you’ll do as I ask.’
He moved, to pick up the négligé he had bought her and which lay across the bottom of the bed. To her surprise he held it open and automatically she slipped into it. He turned her round, his long brown fingers gentle on her arms, arms he
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