“Tell me about them,” Keith urged. “Get ‘em off your chest.” She shook her head. Oh no, she wanted something from him very different from such kindly sympathy.
“Only make it worse,” she claimed. “Drives it in more. Besides, I don’t want to. I want to hear about you.”
“Oh, me!” he made a laughing noise. “There’s nothing to tell.”
“You said you would.” Jenny was alarmed at his perverseness; but they were not estranged now.
Keith was smiling rather bitterly at his own thoughts, it seemed.
“I wonder why it is women want to know such a lot,” he said, drowsily.
“All of them?” she sharply countered. “I suppose you ought to know.”
“You look seedy still.... Are you really feeling better?” Jenny took no notice. “Well, yes: I suppose all of them. They all want to take possession of you. They’re never satisfied with what they’ve got.”
“Perhaps they haven’t got anything,” Jenny said. And after a painful pause: “Oh, well: I shall have to be going home.” She wearily moved, in absolute despair, perhaps even with the notion of rising, though her mind was in turmoil.
“Jenny!” He held her wrist, preventing any further movement. He was looking at her with an urgent gaze. Then, violently, with a rapid motion, he came nearer, and forced his arm behind Jenny’s waist, drawing her close against his breast, her face averted until their cheeks touched, when the life seemed to go out of Jenny’s body and she moved her head quickly in resting it on his shoulder, Keith’s face against her hair, and their two hearts beating quickly. It was done in a second, and they sat so, closely embraced, without speech. Still Jenny’s hands were free, as if they had been lifeless. Time seemed to stand still, and every noise to stop, during that long moment. And in her heart Jenny was saying over and over, utterly hopeless, “It’s no good; it’s no good; it’s no good....” Wretchedly she attempted to press herself free, her elbow against Keith’s breast. She could not get away; but each flying instant deepened her sense of bitter failure.