What do you think?
Rate this book


Paperback
First published January 1, 1949







"There's only one way of getting used to me, you know," he said. "You married me, my dear. What did you expect?"
"I don't know," she said forlornly. "I don't know..."
"But you expected a lover, surely?"
A lover? No, she had never thought of the dark Penryn as that. He had never spoken of love to her during their short engagement, or if he had, she had not understood.
"A lover?" she said, feeling even then the comfort of his hands and striving to understand him. "But we don't love one another. You said you didn't expect that."
The gentleness went out of his hands and his face was suddenly hard and demanding.
"No," he said. "I don't expect that, but I do expect the recognised privileges of marriage. You surely didn't marry me expecting less?"
"No..." she whispered.
"Come, then, I must teach you. We cannot remain strangers, you and."
His arms closed around her, and she stood passively against him, her face lifted to his in mute acceptance of whatever he should demand of her. But in the moment before his mouth closed on hers, the moonlight fell full on his disfigurement, cruelly etching the scar that twisted that side of his face into such sinister ugliness. For a moment she could not control her instinctive recoil and she began to struggle.
"Don't fight me, relax, darling," she heard him say, but she was beyond reason, beyond pity
"I can't... I can't..." she cried. "Nicholas, forgive me, but I can't..."