‘Scream and you are dead,’ he snapped, and released her mouth so that he might open the door. He did not particularly care. Perhaps these few words were the first real conscious words he had uttered in days. This intercourse, which had been planned to warm Ann Veronica to a familiar affection with Ramage, was certainly warming Ramage to a constantly deepening interest in Ann Veronica. All the rest of his existence was subordinate to this pursuit; he lived for it, worked for it, kept himself in training for it. As for himself, there had never been a touch of it. And as he walked by her side they began a wrangle that was none the less pleasant to Ann Veronica because it served to banish a disagreeable preoccupation.
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