He took her with a sigh!”
Her voice fluttered on the last word—forsook the note. He looked up to see her, large-eyed, pale, staring at him. The significance in the words had seized her. Had he told her flatly that she loved him, he could not have had her more by surprise.
“I—you—” she stammered. The blood rushed back to her face. The tears were too many for her eyes.
He sprang up. “For God’s sake—don’t cry!” He took her in his arms, and kissed her over-brimmed eyes as if she were a child. She might well have been, so pliant she was to his touch, so comforted with his lips on her eyes and forehead.
An instant before, antagonists; now their pulses had the throb of one. It was a miracle—wonderful! He kissed her on the mouth.
“‘For God’s sake—don’t cry!’”
Consciousness was in that kiss. For a moment it knit them closer together. Then she stiffened in his arms, thrust at him with a fury of strength. He let her go.
She drew back; she looked at him with a breathless expectation—then beseeching bewilderment. He looked at her, and remembered Florence. What had he done! Ever so slightly he hesitated. Ever so little his face changed. But she saw. Her look froze. All that she had heard—and forgotten—came back to her. Blind misunderstanding! Terrible humiliation! She covered her face with her hands. She couldn’t understand what he was saying; she was deaf—blind.
He tried to uncover her face.