"No, no." He held her arm fiercely."You must come to tea.That's part of the programme.We have plenty of time before seven o'clock."She knew that she ought to return.Something seemed to tell her, as she stood there, that now was the moment to break this off.But when his hand was on her arm, when he was so close to her, she could not leave him.She would have one hour more...He took her across the street, down into darkness, up into light.Then they went into a shop, up some stairs, and were suddenly in a little room with a table with a cloth, a window looking out into the lamp-lit square, cherry-coloured curtains and gay hunting pictures on the walls.
Martin pushed a bell in the wall and a stout waiter, perspiring, smiling, a napkin in his hand, came to the door."Tea," said Martin, and he vanished."It's all right," he said, drawing her to a creaking wicker armchair near the empty fireplace."No one will interrupt us.They know me here.I ordered the room yesterday." Tea came, but she could not eat anything.In some strange way that moment in the theatre when he had pressed her hand had altered everything.She recognised in herself a new Maggie; she was excited with a thick burning excitement, she was almost sleepy with the strain of it and her cheeks were hot, but her throat icy cold.When she told him that she wasn't hungry, he said, "I'm not either." Then he added, not looking at her, "That fellow won't be back for an hour." He came and stood by her looking down on her.He bent forward over the chair and put his hands under her chin and pressed her face up towards his.But he did not kiss her.Then he took her hands and pulled her gently out of the chair, sat down on it himself, then, still very tenderly, put his arms round her and drew her down to him.She lay back against him, her cheek against his, his arms tight around her.He whispered to her again and again, "Darling...
Darling...Darling." She felt now so terribly part of him that she seemed to have lost all her own identity.His hands, softly, tenderly passed up and down her body, stroking her hair, her cheeks, her arms.Her mouth was against his cheek and she was utterly motionless, shivering a little sometimes and once her hand moved up and caught his and then moved away again.At last, as it seemed from an infinite distance, his voice came to her, speaking to her.
"Maggie, darling," he said, "don't go back till late to-night.You can say that those people asked you to stay to dinner.Your aunts can't do anything.Nothing can happen.Stay with me here and then later we'll go and have dinner at a little place I know...and then come back here...come back here...like this.Maggie, darling, say you will.You must.We mayn't have another chance for so long.You're coming to me afterwards.What does it matter, a week or two earlier? What does it matter, Maggie? Stay here.Let us love one another and have something to think about...to remember...to remember...to remember..." His voice seemed to slip away into infinity as voices in a dream do.She could not say anything because she was in a dream too.She could only feel his hand stroking her face.He seemed to take her silence for consent.
He suddenly kissed her furiously, pressing her head back until it hurt.That woke her.She pushed his arms back and sprang up.Her hands were trembling.She shook her head."No, Martin.No, not now.""Why not?" He looked at her angrily from the chair.His face was altered, he was frowning, his eyes were dark."I'm not going to stay now." Her voice shook in spite of herself.With shaking hands she patted her dress."Why not?" he asked again."I'm not.I promised the aunts.Not now.It would spoil everything." "Oh, very well."He was furious with her.He wouldn't meet her eyes."Not now." She felt that she would cry; tears flooded her eyes."It's been so lovely...Martin...Don't look like that.Oh, I love you too much!" She broke off.With a sudden movement she fell at his feet;kneeling there, she drew his hands to her face, she kissed them, the palms of his hands over and over again.His anger suddenly left him.