She realized that he had been
drinking--drinking hard. Her eyes met his terrible eyes
without flinching. He kissed her full upon the lips. With her
open palm she struck him across the cheek, bringing the red
fierily to its smooth fair surface. The devil leaped into his
eyes, the devil of cruelty and lust. He smiled softly and
wickedly. "I see you've forgotten the lesson I gave you three
months ago. You've got to be taught to be afraid all over again."
"I _am_ not afraid," said she. "I _was_ not afraid. You can't
make me afraid."
"We'll see," murmured he. And his fingers began to caress her
round smooth throat.
"If you ever strike me again," she said quietly, "I'll kill you."
His eyes flinched for an instant--long enough to let her know
his innermost secret. "I want you--I want _you_--damn you," he
said, between his clinched teeth. "You're the first one I
couldn't get. There's something in you I can't get!"
"That's _me_," she replied.
"You hate me, don't you?"
"No."
"Then you love me?"
"No. I care nothing about you."
He let her drop back to the bed, went to the window, stood
looking out moodily. After a while he said without turning:
"My mother kept a book shop--on the lower East Side. She
brought me up at home. At home!" And he laughed sardonically.
"She hated me because I looked like my father."
Silence, then he spoke again:
"You've never been to my flat.
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