“Do you know why you don’t? Because you’re only human, like the rest of us. Because I’m here—and I’m staying here—and I want you so much. More than he ever has, Alice—or he would have done something about it long ago. Enough to wait—how long have I waited?— ever since you were a kid. I gave Hilary a fair chance, I swear I did. He could have married you a dozen times over by now, if he’d wanted to.”

She winced at that.

“You needn’t rub it in.”

“I suppose I’m saying a lot of unpardonable things,” he admitted handsomely. “Hilary’s old-fashioned soul would be scandalized. He might even have the cheek to deny that he didn’t care enough about you to stay in England and try to make you happy. Well, he can deny it till the cows come home, but the fact remains, he hasn’t done it! Stop playing the faithful maiden all forlorn, Alice—and have me instead!” He kissed her again, roughly, compellingly, holding her crushed against him till resistance went out of her, and then kissing her again, more gentle with conquest.

“I must see Hilary first—” she murmured weakly, leaning against him, glad of the hard, heavy feel of his shoulders under her hands, giddy with his candid need of her.

“You’d rather it was me,” he repeated. “You said so.”

“Did I?” She rested passive in his eager hold, but the blood was singing in her ears. “You’re easier. I know where I am, with you. You’re more comfortable—not so nervy—not so hard to live up to. If I did something you didn’t like, you’d make a row and get it over. If I betrayed you, you’d knock me down—wouldn’t you?”

“I would,” he nodded, pleased with her.

“Hilary would just break his heart over it,” she said. “For years I’ve been afraid of putting a foot wrong with Hilary. I’m terrified of him half the time. I never know quite what he wants, I can only try to do what he seems to expect of me, and hope for the best. I’m simply terrified to marry Hilary—but I’ll never let him down if I can help it.”

“You’re going to let him down, my girl, if that’s what you call it, whether you want to or not,” George asserted flatly.

“George—please—” But as she straightened against his encircling arms, she felt them tighten possessively. She was helpless, mastered, prisoner to his great strength which enclosed her. “George, you’re hurting me—”

“You like it. I know women,” said George, perhaps a little tactlessly, “they need something to hit against. Hilary’s been too soft with you. I’ll show you where you belong—”