"
"Well, I didn't," said Lily, spiritedly. Then she laughed. He had
been afraid she would laugh. "Oh, Pink, how dear and funny and
masculine you are! I have a perfectly uncontrollable desire to kiss
you."
Which she did, to his amazement and consternation. Nothing she
could have done would more effectually have shown him the
hopelessness of his situation than that sisterly impulse.
"Good Lord," he gasped, "Grayson's in the hall."
"If he comes in I shall probably do it again. Pink, you darling
child, you are still the little boy at Mrs. Van Buren's and if you
would only purse your lips and count one--two--three--Are you
staying to luncheon?"
He was suffering terribly. Also he felt strangely empty inside,
because something that he had carried around with him for a long
time seemed to have suddenly moved out and left a vacancy.
"Thanks. I think not, Lily; I've got a lot to do to-day."
She sat very still. She had had to do it, had had to show him,
somehow, that she loved him without loving him as he wanted her to.
She had acted on impulse, on an impulse born of intention, but she
had hurt him. It was in every line of his rigid body and set face.
Pages:
89
90
91
92
93
94
95
96
97
98
99
100
101
102
103
104
105
106
107
108
109
110
111
112
113