Gatliffe, who had been quite unprepared for this display of affection, was no longer master of himself. He took her on his knee and kissed her passionately.
No. 41.
GATLIFFE AND LAURA STANBRIDGE.
Laura Stanbridge, who had been playing her part to perfection, smiled.
She had him in her toils. Of that she felt assured. Unimpressible, and in a measure phlegmatic as he had been to the allurements of a designing woman, he was now, to make use of a nautical phrase, fairly capsized.
The beautiful creature in his arms affected to love him, and he, poor weak fool that he was, believed her.
“Now, dearest!” he exclaimed. “Will you excuse me? May I go?”
“As you please,” she answered, pouting.
“It is not as I please. It is for you to determine.”