“Yet you never answered them.” At last the accusation trembled to her lips.
“Yet I never answered them.”
“Did you ever so much as read them, I wonder?”
All the demons of self-torture were up in her now, and she loosed them on him, as if to escape from their rage.
Deering hardly seemed to hear her question. He merely shifted his attitude, leaning a little nearer to her, but without attempting, by the least gesture, to remind her of the privileges which such nearness had once implied.
“There were beautiful, wonderful things in them,” he said, smiling.
She felt herself stiffen under his smile.
“You’ve waited three years to tell me so!”
He looked at her with grave surprise. “And do you resent my telling you even now?”
His parries were incredible. They left her with a breathless sense of thrusting at emptiness, and a desperate, almost vindictive desire to drive him against the wall and pin him there.