her desperate resistance. She writhed with clenched teeth and hands pressed convulsively against his chest; her hair fell over her face and she bit it to prevent herself shrieking and tried to push him away as if she was having an attack of epilepsy. It was incredible and horrible; he was conscious of only one thing: that he must not let her fall on the ground and that he must avoid knocking any chairs over. What . . . what would he do if she evaded, him? He would sink through the earth for shame. He drew her to him and buried his lips in her tangled hair; he encountered a burning forehead. She turned away her head with revulsion and tried still more desperately to free herself of the iron grip of his arms.
“I’ll give up Krakatit,” he heard his own voice say, to his horror. “I’ll give it up, you hear? I’ll give up everything! A war, a new war, millions of dead. It’s all the same to me. Do you want me to? Say one word—I’m telling you, that I’ll give up Krakatit! I swear that I’ll . . . I love you, do you hear? What . . . whatever happens! Even . . . even if I had to destroy the whole world—I love you!”
“Let me go,” she wailed, struggling.
“I can’t,” he groaned, his face buried in her hair. “I’m the most miserable man on earth. I’m a traitor to the whole world. To the whole human race. Spit in my face, but don’t dr—drive me away! Why can’t I let you go? I’ll give you Krakatit, you hear? I’ve sworn to; but then forget me! Where—where’s your mouth? I’ma monster, but kiss me! I’m lost”
