He shook hands without answering. All that he had prepared in his mind
had suddenly vanished, leaving not a blank, but a hundred other things
which he had not intended to say, and which now, at the sight of her
face, seemed inevitable.
"Yes," he said, looking into her steady grey eyes, "I am in
Holland--because I cannot stay away--because I cannot live without you.
I have pretended to myself and to everybody else that I come to The
Hague because of the Malgamite; but it is not that. It is because you
are here. Wherever you are I must be; wherever you go I must follow
you. The world is not big enough for you to get away from me. It is so
big that I feel I must always be near you--for fear something should
happen to you--to watch over you and take care of you. You know what my
life has been...."
She turned away with a little shrug of the shoulders and a shake of the
head. For a woman may read a man's life in his face--in the twinkling
of an eye--as in an open book.
"All the world knows that...." he continued, with a sceptical laugh.
"Is it not written ... in the society papers? But it has always been
aboveboard--and harmless enough...."
Dorothy smiled as she looked out across the grey sea. He was, it
appeared, telling her nothing that she did not know. For she was wise
and shrewd--of that pure leaven of womankind which leaveneth all the
rest. And she knew that a man must not be judged by his life--not even
by outward appearance, upon which the world pins so much faith--but by
that occasional glimpse of the soul of him, which may live on, pure
through all impurity, or may be foul beneath the whitest covering.
Pages:
167
168
169
170
171
172
173
174
175
176
177
178
179
180
181
182
183
184
185
186
187
188
189
190
191