"I can't help it!" she wailed like a child. "Oh, Piet--Piet, be kind to
me--just this once--if you can! I--I'm terrified!"
He put his arm round her.
"Why?" he said.
She could not tell him. But in a vague fashion his arm comforted her; and
that also was beyond explanation.
"You are not angry?" she whispered.
"No," he said.
"You will be," she said, shivering, "when I have told you my decision."
"What is your decision?" he asked.
She did not answer him; she could not.
He moved, and very gently set her free. There was a chair by the table
from which he had evidently just risen. He turned to it and sat down,
watching her under his hand.
"What is your decision?" he asked again.
She shook her head. Her agony of fear was passing, but still she could
not tell him yet.
He waited silently, his face so shaded by his hand that she could not
read its expression.
"Why don't you answer me?" he said at last.
"I--can't!" she said, with a sob.
"You leave the decision to me?" he questioned.
She did not answer.
He straightened himself slowly, without rising.
"My decision is made," he said. "Give me your hand; not that one--the
left."
She obeyed him trembling. He had taken something from his pocket. With a
start she saw what it was.
"Oh, no, Piet--no!" she cried.
But he had his way, for he would not suffer her resistance to thwart him.
Pages:
187
188
189
190
191
192
193
194
195
196
197
198
199
200
201
202
203
204
205
206
207
208
209
210
211