Courant's
callousness roused a fierce, perverse tenderness in her. He might
sneer at David's lack of force, but she understood. She crooned over
him, moved his hair back with caressing fingers, pressing him against
herself as if the strength of her hold would assure her of the love she
did not feel and wanted to believe in. Her arms were close round him,
his head on her shoulder when Courant came back with a dipper of water.
"Get away," he said, standing over them. "I don't want to wet you."
But she curled round her lover, her body like a protecting shield
between him and danger.
"Leave go of him," said Courant impatiently. "Do you think I'm going
to hurt him with a cup full of water?"
"Let me alone," she answered sullenly. "He'll be all right in a
minute."
"You can be any kind of a fool you like, but you can't make me one.
Come, move." He set the dipper on the ground.
He leaned gently over her and grasped her wrists. The power of his
grip amazed her; she was like a mouse in the paws of a lion. Her puny
strength matched against his was conquered in a moment of futile
resistance.
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