But this was not what lay at the heart of her unease. For at the
thought of her half-brother, and of the very real threat he posed, the
will to survive had once more begun to assert itself inside her. She
was afraid. And this simple, undeniable impulse---the desire to avoid
pain and danger---tormented her now because it would not be
suppressed. Death she did not fear. But thoughts of trying to fight
off her brother's oblivious, self-satisfied advances, the possibility
of rape or imprisonment if she refused him..... These she could not
face.
"I've got to get out of here!" she said suddenly, as if herself a
puppet whose strings had been violently jerked. And rushing to the
door before her mother could stop her, she broke from the hut and
began running wildly down the path, her one desire to reach its root
and turn aside before Stephen Purceville could arrive there, trapping
her in the narrow pass.
She did not know how narrowly she succeeded. For no sooner had she
reached and taken the track west, climbing a shallow hill and then
dropping again out of sight, than the expectant officer on his panting
steed arrived at the meeting of ways, and began climbing steadily the
final stretch to the hut, and the long-awaited rendezvous with his
imagined lover.
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