It is--unbearable," she ended
passionately. "I can't bear it."
He smoked in silence for some seconds. "I am--sorry to have hurt you,
Brigit."
"Sorry to have hurt me! I don't believe you love me. If you were
jealous, so am I! I will _not_ be treated like this."
His white face was like a mask. "I am sorry," he repeated, with a kind
of dogged patience.
"Then if you are--be good to me. I love you, Victor."
He met her eyes and his did not falter in their steady gaze. "Please do
not excite yourself," he said very gently, "and--I think I will go in
now. It must be breakfast time."
Driven beyond her own control by his tone, she caught his arm and
pleaded with him, her voice harsh and broken, and she could not stop,
although she saw that she was, besides annoying him, injuring herself in
his eyes.
"Please--Brigit----"
"Then tell me that you love me. You can't have stopped--it is only a
week since the wedding--I--can't bear this----"
But her mistaken line of conduct brought its inevitable punishment.
"This is--absurd," he said coldly, "and--undignified. I told you at
Falaise that I was ashamed of myself for being jealous of my son. It was
monstrous and hideous.
Pages:
303
304
305
306
307
308
309
310
311
312
313
314
315
316
317
318
319
320
321
322
323
324
325
326
327