He suddenly felt cheated.
"Where are you off to this morning?" he inquired.
"To town for the day. I have some business to attend to and some
shopping to do. Would you like to come along?"
He was in a sulky mood.
"You know I hate the very thought of going to town," he said. Then,
as she raised her eyebrows slightly, he made haste to add: "I'd go
from one end of the desert of Sahara to the other with you, but--"
shaking his head so solemnly that she laughed outright,--"not to
the city. Just ask me to go to the Sahara with you and see how--"
"Haven't you had enough of No-Man's Land?" she cried merrily.
"It depends on what you'd call No-Man's Land," said he, and her gaze
faltered at last. There was no mistaking his meaning. "Sometimes
it is Paradise, you know," he went on softly.
Twice before she had seen the same look in his eyes, and both times
she had experienced a strange sensation, as of the weakness that
comes with ecstasy. There had been something in his eyes that
seemed to caress her from head to foot, something that filled her
with the most disquieting self-consciousness. Strange to say, it
was not the ardent look of the love-sick admirer,--and she had not
escaped such tributes,--nor the inquiring look of the adventurous
married man. It was not soulful nor was it offensive. She reluctantly
confessed to herself that it was warm and penetrating and filled
her with a strange, delicious alarm.
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