He was a man, young
and desirous, subject to all the frailties of his sex, holding
experiences in his past that had left him far from a puritan. And
she was a woman, of unschooled impulses, with unsuspected banked
passions, an innocent creature in whom primeval physical life
rioted.
He moved toward the door, his left fist beating into the palm of
his right hand. He must protect her, against himself--and against
her innocent affection for him.
She fluttered past him, barring the way. Her cheeks were flaming
with shame.
"You despise me. Why did I let you?" A sob swelled up into her
soft round throat.
"You blessed lamb," he groaned.
"You're going to leave me. You--you don't want me for a friend any
longer."
Her lips trembled--the red little lips that always reminded him of
a baby's with its Cupid's bow. She was on the verge of breaking
down. Jeff could not stand that. He held out his hands, intending
to take hers and explain that he was not angry or disappointed at
her. But somehow he found her in his arms instead, supple and
warm, vital youth flowing in the soft cheeks' rich coloring and in
the eyes quick and passionate with the tender abandon of her sex.
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