"Oh!" she gasped.
He shot a swift, searching glance down the hall and into the living-room.
Then he held out his arms to her. She was gazing spell-bound into
his eager, shining eyes. He waited. She came to him as if drawn
by some overpowering magnet. His arms closed about her....She was
crushed against his body, she seemed a part of him. His arms were
like smothering coils that pressed the life out of her; his hungry
lips were fastened upon hers, hot and lustful.
Presently she began to struggle. Shame,--a vast, sickening
shame,--possessed her. She was conscious of the wild, increasing
lust that mastered him. She tried to tear herself from contact with
his body, as from something base, unclean, revolting. His kisses
held her. She was powerless to resist the passion that swept over
her. Once more she surrendered,--and then came the shame, the
overwhelming shame. She was debased, defiled! She put her hand
to his face and pushed frantically to release herself from those
consuming, unholy lips.
Suddenly he freed her, and sprang back, panting but triumphant.
She heard him whisper, hoarsely, rapturously:
"God!"
Some one was coming. He had caught the sound of footsteps,--somewhere.
Alix sank breathless, rigid, almost fainting, upon the hall-seat.
"Darling!" he whispered passionately. She half arose, caught once
more by the irresistible spell that had first swept her into his
embrace.
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