He set his teeth against the rush of desire that flooded him as
her soft body clung to his. The emotional climax he had vaguely
feared had leaped upon them like an uncaged tiger. He fought to
stamp down the fires that blazed up in him. Time to think--he must
have time to think.
"You don't despise me then," she cried softly, a little catch in
her breath.
"No," he protested, and again "No."
"But you think I've done wrong."
"No. I've been to blame. You're a dear girl--and I've abused your
kindness. I must go away--now."
"Then you--you do hate me," she accused with a quivering lip.
"No . . . no. I'm very fond of you."
"But you're going to leave me. It's because I've done wrong."
"Don't blame yourself, dear. It has been all my fault. I ought to
have known."
Her hands fell from him. The life seemed to die out of her whole
figure. "You do despise me."
Desire of her throbbed through him, but he spoke very quietly.
"Listen, dear. There is nobody I respect more . . . and none I
like so much. I can't tell you how. . . fond of you I am. But I
must go now. You don't understand."
She bit her lip to repress the sobs that would come and turned
away to hide her shame.
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