He crimsoned.
“You think I’m impossible, don’t you, Anne?”
Encountering his angry, pleading gaze, she laughed uncertainly.
“I think you make life impossible for yourself—and others!”
He wheeled about and faced the fire with tragic, sullen eyes.
“You are right. I’m a curse to myself and everyone else. The sooner I am out of it the better for all.”
A tug of pain at her heart, Anne leaned forward and laid her hand upon his thick, blonde hair. “My dear, my poor dear,” her voice was compassionate and caressing.
With a guttural cry, Alexis turned, and flinging himself at Anne’s feet, buried his face in her lap.
“Don’t hate me! If you do, I shall kill myself. Say you won’t hate me. Say it!”
Tears welled up into Anne’s eyes. Taking his face in her hands, she raised it to her own. “My poor Alexis, my poor boy!”