His brow clouded for a moment as he recalled Kate’s strange reserve and shrinking at his morning visit. Would she, womanlike, at the last moment contradict herself and withhold the full surrender of life? It was impossible, and yet he felt a vague fear. At any rate, he had burned the bridges behind. His way was clear. He would bring to bear every power he possessed to win her, and in the vanity of his powerful manhood he laughed with the certainty of victory.
When he greeted Kate and bent to kiss her she drew back, blushed and firmly said:
“No; we have had our moments of madness.”
And the man smiled.
“I mean it,” she said, shaking her head.
“You will change your mind. It’s a woman’s way. Those moments of bliss, so intense it was pain, when our souls and bodies met in a kiss, have made a new world for you and me.”
“But we will keep ourselves pure and unspotted,” she answered slowly. “All night I fought this battle alone. Our love is a hopeless tragedy.”
“It shall not be so for you, my shining one.”
“There are others,” she said, nervously clasping her hands, “whose lives are linked with ours. The face of your wife I saw last night will forever haunt me with its pathos. I’ve seen your children once—so like you, and yet so like her.”
“Even so. Life has no meaning now except that you are mine and I am yours.”