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 She pushed him away with a violence which amounted almost to frenzy and faced him with a blaze of rage and repugnance. He drew back, startled.

“But Lydia…” he expostulated.

“Don’t touch me,” she said with savage vehemence. “Don’t dare to touch me…. Not now. Never until I give you permission. I won’t have you touching me.”

“But Lydia…” he repeated.

She interrupted him with a gesture—convulsive, hysterical. Her eyes seemed to hate him as her body shrank from him. “I told you I didn’t love you. I told you. Go away…. Go away out of my sight….”

He went, dismayed. How could any young man be expected to understand such conduct?