"Thanks, it's getting on pretty well. I was mightily disappointed at having to leave my Dragoons just after we'd pushed old Massena out of Portugal. But what's the good of a cavalryman if he can't ride a horse? And the field hospitals are so riddled with lice that I thought it better to be carted down here in an ambulance than stay up there behind the line. I should be able to get back, though, in a week or so. Take a chair, and join me in a glass of wine.'
Feeling that it would be churlish to refuse, Roger uncorked one of the bottles he had brought, and poured out two glasses. Then the two old enemies drank each other's health. For a while they talked about the campaign and various mutual acquaintances, until they got on to Mary and her dead parents, and Gunston remarked:
'You're a damned lucky fellow, Brook. You have always had a way with the women, and it needed only half an eye to see that little Mary is quite besotted about you, What luck for you, too, that you should both be sleeping under the same roof. She's a game little filly, and as hot as mustard. I'll wager you have your work cut out to satisfy her. Don't you dare get her with child, though, or you and I will quarrel again.'
Roger's face had become dead white, His blue eyes blazing, he came to his feet and cried, "You filthy minded brute! How dare you slander a virtuous girl like Mary! I'll call you out for that, and this time I'll kill you.'
Gunston's fair eyebrows shot up again. 'Hold hard!' he exclaimed, raising himself on his pillows. 'It's no slander to speak the truth, and I know of what I'm talking. Mary's no virgin. To call me out on her account would be behaving like a quixotic ass. She's been had by half a dozen fellows; and if you haven't had her, more fool you. That demure look of hers is naught but a fire screen in front of a fire. Damn it, man! I've had her myself. It was one afternoon in a punt, up a backwater on the Thames. She made the usual maidenly protests, but once I got between her legs I only had to push a bit and, in no time, she was begging me to give it to her hard.'
To that Roger could find no adequate reply. Seething with rage, he turned about, stamped out of the room and slammed the door behind him.
By this time he could walk without a stick and had begun to exercise his game leg, so he had carried the bottles and fruit to the hospital in a basket. He made his way back to the Legation by instinct rather than by looking which way he was going, for his mind was in a turmoil.
Recalling Mary's midnight visits to his room, he again visualized all that had taken place; the unconcealed passion with which she had kissed him and, lying outside the bedclothes, pressed her little body against his; the liberties she had let him take without protest; the way she had enjoyed having him kiss her breasts. Short of actually handling his manhood, she had left nothing undone to rouse him. No girl of her upbringing could have more blatantly offered herself. What an idiot he had been not to take her. But that could soon be rectified.
That evening he broke a rule that he had so far forced himself to observe and, when they were alone together for a moment, asked her to come to him later. With a conspiratorial lift of her slanting eyebrows, she smilingly consented.
During the hours that followed, he could hardly contain his impatience. While they were in the salon he had difficulty in keeping his eyes off her. With each glance he took in her feminine charms with new appreciation: the pretty face with its gay, humorous expression, the glossy ringlets that made such a perfect frame for it, the full, red lipped mouth, just made for kisses, her pouting breasts that gently rose and fell beneath her lace fichu, the well rounded little bottom, the outline of which could be seen as she stooped with her back to him when picking up a flower that had fallen from another lady's corsage.
Up in his room he paced restlessly to and fro for an hour before undressing and getting into bed. There he tried to read, but found it impossible to concentrate. Every few minutes he glanced at his big turnip watch which lay on the bedside table. The hands seemed positively to crawl. At last it was midnight, but he knew that he could not expect her for another half-hour at least. Continuing to wait through those last thirty minutes proved almost unbearable. He was even tempted to go to her. But he knew that she shared a clothes closet with Deborah, who occupied a room next to hers; so that would have been madness. At last she came to him.
Her coming was such a relief that it restored calmness to his mind. He did not mean to rush his fences. By showing more emotion than he usually displayed when she made her midnight visits, he would surprise and might disturb her. Closing the door softly, she ran over to his bed, put her arms round his neck and kissed him. He returned her kiss, but restrained himself from putting more ardour than usual into it. Happily, she climbed up on the bed, as she had done on the last two occasions and, while he lay under the bedclothes, settled herself comfortably lying beside him on the eiderdown.
For a while they continued kissing, then talked of the events of the day. Presently he began to play with her breasts until her nipples hardened. She closed her eyes and her breathing quickened. Having roused her to a state suitable to his design, he whispered:
'My adored one, why not come into bed with me? The bedclothes make such a horrid barrier between us. I long to have your dear body next to mine, so that I can embrace you more closely.'
After hesitating a moment, she replied, 'I… I don't think I ought to.'
He gave a little laugh. 'Why not, since we now look on each other as engaged? All engaged couples do so if they get the chance.'
She drew a quick breath. 'Very well, then, but I must keep my dressing gown on.
'Of course,' he promptly agreed, and sat up.
As she slipped off the bed, he pushed back the bedclothes and she got in beside him. Within a minute they were locked in a close embrace and kissing breathlessly. But still he refrained from rushing matters. It was not until ten minutes later that he untied the sash of her dressing gown, pushed it aside and, kissing her again, let his hand begin to wander.
She made no protest when he eased up her long nightdress, as she had let him feel her on two previous occasions. Again she closed her eyes and glued her mouth to his. He gave her another minute; then, still playing with her, used his elbow to push her legs apart. Abruptly, before she could protest, he threw one of his legs over hers and came on top of her.
For several heart-beats she did not resist him; then, as she felt his staff, she pulled her mouth from his and gasped:
'Roger! Roger! What are you doing? Stop! Oh, stop!'
But by then his object was as good as accomplished; yet he had to thrust hard to penetrate her. It crossed his mind that, being so small a woman might account for her parts also being so small, although that was contrary to his experience. Next moment her resistance ceased. She gave a cry of pain, then let him have his way. Soon afterwards her fingernails were biting into his back and she began to move jerkily under him, until they suddenly clenched hard in a climax.
But as they ceased their passionate wrestle and lay panting, he felt no joy, only a sick distress. He knew now that Gunston had deliberately lied to him, with the malicious hope that this would happen. Mary had, after all, been a virgin.
For a few minutes she lay absolutely still. Then she pushed him roughly from her and almost fell out of bed. By the light of the solitary candle, he saw that tears were running down her cheeks and that her mouth was strangely distorted into an ugly shape.
Suddenly her eyes blazed and she cried, 'Roger! Oh, Roger, how could you do this to me? You have robbed me of the only thing I had to give a husband. I hate you! I hate you! I never wish to set eyes on you again,'