A Fool There Was

by Porter Emerson Browne

"I said, 'A kiss, My Fool!'" she repeated.

"I heard."

Her eyes were on him…. Slowly he turned…. The set jaw relaxed; the straight limned lips weakened…. He looked at her.

Her lips now were almost upon his own; her eyes were very close to his.
Again she whispered; softly, sibilantly, caressingly:

"A kiss, My Fool!"

* * * * *

He thrust her from him.

"You devil!" he cried. "I love you—and I hate you! You are beautiful— and you're ugly! You are sweeter than the last of life—and more bitter than the sodden shame of a secret sin!"

She replied, lightly, arranging the masses of her hair with deft, slender fingers:

"All of which is quite as it should be, My Fool; for the hate makes the love but the more poignant; the ugliness is but a fair setting for the beauty; and sweetness in bitterness is far more sweet than sweetness alone."