As she watched his lips, and heard
his voice speak her name, blazing floods of weakness were pouring over
her.
"There are things one mustn't do," she said slowly. "But they would be
most beautiful to think about, right deep down and quiet inside--like
Mary had to hide and ponder in her heart the things the angel told her.
One mustn't. I mustn't even think about you--that way--"
"What? What do you mean?"
"Thoughts drag people down, down, don't they? Except for a minute or
two I've thought clean and selfless about Louis. Always about you I've
thought very shiningly. If I let go a minute the shine of you will be
out of my eyes. Do you see? Then I'll be like--like any of the other
women! All soft corners and seduction. Just while you've been talking to
me I've understood that I _want_ to be like that; that's why I've been
so dead this last month since you went away. It seems a pity, doesn't
it?"
He found that it was his turn to sit speechless, watching her.
"There, now I've told you," she said, and lifted her hands and let them
drop again hopelessly. "And now I'm going back to Louis. You want my
courage.... Oh God, you've got it!"
He still stared at her. Quick, understanding as he was, he had not quite
understood yet. He only saw that she was still whiter, that the still
hands were clenched.
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