“It’s no use,” she said at last, in a dreadful murmur. “You don’t want me a bit. Far better let me go.”
Keith loosed his hold, and she sat away from him with a little sigh that was almost a shudder. Her hands went as if by instinct to her hair, smoothing it. Another instinct, perhaps, made her turn to him with the ghost of a reassuring smile.
“Silly, we’ve been,” she said, huskily. “I’ve been thinking about you all this time; and this is the end of it. Well, I was a fool to come....” She sat up straight, away from the back of the settee; but she did not look at Keith. She was looking at nothing. Only in her mind was going on the tumult of merciless self-judgment. Suddenly her composure gave way and she was again in his arms, not crying, but straining him to her. And Keith was kissing her, blessed kisses upon her soft lips, as if he truly loved her as she had all this time hoped. She clung to him in a stupor.
CHAPTER VIII: PENALTIES
i
“Poor old Jenny,” Keith was saying, stroking her arm and holding his cheek against hers.
“You don’t want me ...” groaned Jenny.
“Yes.”