'Why should I think that?' he said.
She was watching him all the time with her dark, dilated, inchoate
eyes. She leaned forward and swung round her arm, catching him a light
blow on the face with the back of her hand.
'That's why,' she said, mocking.
And she felt in her soul an unconquerable desire for deep violence
against him. She shut off the fear and dismay that filled her conscious
mind. She wanted to do as she did, she was not going to be afraid.
He recoiled from the slight blow on his face. He became deadly pale,
and a dangerous flame darkened his eyes. For some seconds he could not
speak, his lungs were so suffused with blood, his heart stretched
almost to bursting with a great gush of ungovernable emotion. It was as
if some reservoir of black emotion had burst within him, and swamped
him.
'You have struck the first blow,' he said at last, forcing the words
from his lungs, in a voice so soft and low, it sounded like a dream
within her, not spoken in the outer air.
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