“They think I’m your lover,” he said brutally. “Everyone thinks so. What else are they to think? You can bet your life Ramsay thinks so too. If you’re not jolly careful he’ll divorce you. That’ll upset your damned virtue a bit!”

“And you—” she tried to steady her voice— “And you—knowing this—deliberately—compromised me! Please—go!”

His eyes fell; colour crept into his face, and he laughed uneasily.

“I wanted you,” he said. “I was mad for you. How was I to know you were so guileless? You’re not a schoolgirl. You’re a married woman—who’s left her husband.”

“Is that an excuse for you to insult me like this?”

“A woman in your position,” he retorted, “who behaves as you’ve behaved—”

“Go away!” she cried, between quivering lips. “You’ve no right to speak to me like that! Stephen would kill you if he could hear! You only do it because you know I’m alone! You coward, you coward!”

“Stephen’s far more likely to set detectives on to you,” he said mockingly.

Up went her head.

“Do you suppose that my husband would believe these —vile tales?” she asked proudly.

“Oh no, of course not!” he sneered. “And you’d be able to deny that you’d been everywhere with me for months, wouldn’t you? You’d be able to deny that I’ve been up in your room until past midnight too! You’d try and cheat him as you’ve cheated me. I hope you succeed, that’s all.”

“Don’t say any more!” she gasped. “Go at once! If you don’t, I’ll ring till Mrs. Cotton comes! Go away, and never, never let me see you again!”

“Yes, that’s it! You’ve had all the fun you want out of me, and now I’m to go. Well, I’m not going yet. Not until I wish to.” With a sudden movement he twisted the chair from between them and then, before she could escape, caught her roughly in his arms and pressed his hot lips against her panting mouth.

His arms clamped hers to her sides; she could not struggle or cry out; she felt that she was suffocating, deadly nausea took possession of her, and her taut muscles relaxed until she lay limp in Wendell’s violent embrace, almost fainting.

Footsteps sounded; someone knocked on the door.

“Are you there, ma’am?” called the “gal.” “There’s a letter for you, just come.”

Chapter Twenty-Five