Perhaps she might never come back to that breakfast-room again. She warmed to him fast, her anger was much harder to carry than the pleasant everyday neutrality of affection. He seemed to charge her with the ruin of their situation. He drove her home that night, kissing her again and again at stoplights. He sat down beside her and stroked her hair. ‘But the fact remains that you should not have enjoyed it, you were quite right to threaten to kill me, and I— God help me!—should not have kissed you at all. ’ ‘As if you could stop her. She fought a compulsive urge to yank his shirt free. The night had swallowed him up, but his work on her was done. “I knew that you waited at the farmhouse. And you don’t know what led to our separation. This charming episode was repeated three times. ” He whispered with reverence.
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