Follow a Stranger

she already knew. But how it hurt! She had revealed herself

to him, left herself exposed to his mockery. Now he knew

that he could have her if he wished—what next?

She must get away, she thought, her pride stung. But

how? She was forced to wait until Marc allowed her to

leave, and every moment she spent in his company was

dangerous. She never wished to see him again.

So he thought he would amuse himself with her, did he?

Play until Marie-Louise condescended to marry him? What

had she said? Be prepared for dismissal when he tires of

you? The insolence of it!

Then her blood ran hotly as she remembered the way he

had whispered that he knew she wanted his kisses. She had

noticed at the time that he had not mentioned love, only

said that he “wanted” her. Well, now she knew what he had

meant!

She had locked the door of her room. Suddenly she heard

the door knob turning. Someone knocked. She sat up,

rubbing her face.

“Who is it?” she whispered.

“Marc! Let me in!”

She stiffened. How dared he come here like this! Scarlet,

hollow-eyed, she went to the door. “Go away!” she hissed.

“Leave me alone!”

She heard him groan, “Oh, for God’s sake, not again! I

thought we had had that out!” And there was a note of

tender amusement, of indulgence, in his voice which stung

her.

“I meant it the first time,” she said, “before you forced

your disgusting attentions on me!”