"Then you are weak—simply weak!—You act as if I were proposing something actually wicked. It's not wicked at all; it's simply a practical benefit. Marriage without love might be wicked if there were any chance left of combining it with love; but now—! It's simply picking up pieces, making the best of things—straight commonsense...."
She might still have had her way against him, as long as he continued to base his appeal on commonsense. But he changed his tactics again, this time as a matter of impulse. He had been slowly walking toward her in the course of his argument and now stood close by her, talking straight down into her eyes, till suddenly her mere physical nearness put an end to speech and thought alike. Something of her old physical attraction for him, which had been much stronger than in the case of Madge, returned to him with a force for the moment irresistible. There was something about her wide eyes, her parted lips, her bosom slightly heaving with the effort of argument.... He put his hand on her shoulder and slowly yet irresistibly drew her to him. He bent his head till their lips touched.
So they stood for neither knew how long. Seconds flew by like years, or was it years like seconds? Sense of time was as completely lost as in sleep; indeed, their condition was very much like that of sleep. They had both become suddenly, acutely tired of life and had found at least temporary rest and refreshment. Neither of them was bothered by worries over the inevitable awakening; neither of them even thought of it, yet.
As for Beatrice, she was for the moment bowled over by the discovery that some one cared for her enough to clasp her to his bosom and kiss her. What had she wanted all these years, except to be loved? A wave of mingled self-pity and self-contempt swept over her. She felt suddenly weak; her knees trembled; what did that matter, though, when James was there to hold her up? She needed strength above all things, and James was strong above all things. Tears smarted in her eyes and streamed unheeded down her cheeks.
"I was so lonely," she whispered at last, raising her welling eyes to him. "I have been alone so long ... so long...."
"James," she began again after a while, "life is so horrible, isn't it?"
"It is. Ghastly."
"Oh, it is good to find some one else who thinks so!"
"Yes, I know."
"Anything is good—anything—that makes it easier to forget, isn't it?"