'I'M all right then,' said Gerald.
'Yes! Yes! You're all right,' said the Russian.
Halliday continued to smile, and to say nothing.
Suddenly the Pussum appeared again in the door, her small, childish
face looking sullen and vindictive.
'I know you want to catch me out,' came her cold, rather resonant
voice. 'But I don't care, I don't care how much you catch me out.'
She turned and was gone again. She had been wearing a loose
dressing-gown of purple silk, tied round her waist. She looked so small
and childish and vulnerable, almost pitiful. And yet the black looks of
her eyes made Gerald feel drowned in some potent darkness that almost
frightened him.
The men lit another cigarette and talked casually.
CHAPTER VII.
FETISH
In the morning Gerald woke late. He had slept heavily. Pussum was still
asleep, sleeping childishly and pathetically. There was something small
and curled up and defenceless about her, that roused an unsatisfied
flame of passion in the young man's blood, a devouring avid pity.
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