Again silence. Hilary Roding was all soldier now, his earlier grievances laid aside. We were going at a mad pace. “But why,” he said in the gasping voice of one subduing an agony, and looked at her from under a pain-wrinkled brow, “why did you not tell me this before?” “I didn’t know—I thought I might be able to control myself. She screamed involuntarily—she had never in her life screamed before—and then she began to wriggle and fight like a frightened animal against the men who were holding her. None this end. “Please make yourselves comfortable while I see to the coffee. Wood.
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