She suffered the hands upon
her shoulders. She suffered the fiery passion of his gaze.
Only at last very clearly, very resolutely, she spoke. "Piers--no!"
His face was close to hers, glowing and vital and tensely determined. "I
say 'Yes,'" he said, with brief decision.
Avery was silent. His hands were drawing her, and still she did not
resist; but in those moments of silent inactivity she was stronger than
he. Her personality was at grips with his, and if she gained no ground at
least she held her own.
"Avery!" he said suddenly and sharply. "What's the matter with you? Why
don't you speak?"
"I am waiting," she said.
"Waiting!" he echoed. "Waiting for what?"
"Waiting for you to come to yourself, Piers," she made steadfast answer.
He laughed at that, a quick, insolent laugh. "Do you think I don't know
what I'm doing, then?"
"I am quite sure," she answered, "that when you know, you will be more
ashamed than any honourable man should ever have reason to be."
He winced at the words. She saw the hot blood surge in a great wave to
his forehead, and she quailed inwardly though outwardly she made no sign.
His grip was growing every instant more compelling. She knew that he was
bracing himself for one great effort that should batter down the strength
that withstood him. His lips were so close to hers that she could feel
his breath, quick and hot, upon her face.
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