Page:The Painted Veil - Maugham - 1925.djvu/266

 “I can’t leave you like this,” he said, putting his arms round her. “You know I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

“Don’t touch me. For God’s sake go. Go away.”

She tried to tear herself from him, but he would not let her. She was crying hysterically now.

“Darling, don’t you know that I’ve always loved you,” he said in his deep, charming voice. “I love you more than ever.”

“How can you tell such lies! Let me go. Damn you, let me go.”

“Don’t be unkind to me, Kitty. I know I’ve been a brute to you, but forgive me.”

She was shaking and sobbing, struggling to get away from him, but the pressure of his arms was strangely comforting. She had so longed to feel them round her once more, just once, and all her body trembled. She felt dreadfully weak. It seemed as though her bones were melting, and the sorrow she felt for Walter shifted into pity for herself.

“Oh, how could you be so unkind to me?” she sobbed. “Don’t you know that I loved you with all my heart. No one has ever loved you as I loved you.”

“Darling.”

He began to kiss her.

“No, no,” she cried.

He sought her face, but she turned it away; he sought her lips; she did not know what he was saying, broken, passionate words of love; and his arms held her so firmly that she felt like a child that has