“You darling angel of a boy; it is you that makes me so unhappy.”
I started back in surprise.
“I make you unhappy! Oh! Miss Evelyn, how can that be, when I adore the very ground you stand on, and love (sobbing)—love (sob)—love you more than anything in the world.”
She seized my head in her two hands, glued her lips to mine, gave me a long, long kiss of love; then, pressing me to her bosom—
“Oh, say that again, my loved, my darling boy; it is the love I feel for you that is breaking my heart, but I can resist it no longer. Will my Charlie love his Evelyn always as he does now?”
“Oh, how could I do otherwise? I have worshipped you from the first moment of your arrival, and have had no other idea. What can I do to prove it—try, oh, try me. I have never breathed a syllable of my love for you, even to yourself, let alone other people.”
Her eyes, sparkling with passion, were searching the depths of mine, as if to fathom my thoughts. I, too, began to feel my amorous passions excited by her warm embraces and kisses. She held me tight to her body, and could not help feeling the hard substance that jutted out against her.
“I believe you, my Charlie, and will trust you with my life—with more, with my honour! I can no longer resist my fate. But, oh! Charlie, love me always, for I run a fearful risk in loving you as I do.”
She again drew me to her lips, my hands clasped her neck in a close embrace. Her hands wandered—pressed upon my throbbing prick. With trembling and hasty fingers she unbuttoned, or rather tore open, my trousers, and her soft fingers clasped my naked instrument.
“Oh, I shall die, dear Miss Evelyn; what must I do to make you happy?”