She staggered back, trembling and swaying a little as she got her breath, her face very white.
He had hurt her.

The hurt was in her eyes, in the way she looked at him, as if he had become a menace from which she would run if he had not taken the strength from her.

As she stood there, her parted lips showing the red of his kisses, her shining hair almost undone, he held out his hands mutely.
"You think--I came here for _that ?_" she panted.
"No," he said.

"Forgive me.

I am sorry." It was not anger that he saw in her face.