But you
do not believe...."
Divided between annoyance and distaste, he was silent. And all at once
she threw herself half across the joined arms of their chairs, catching
his shoulders with her hands, so that her half-clothed body rested on
his bosom, and its scented warmth assailed his senses with the
seduction whose power she knew so well.
"Ah, Michael, my Michael!" she cried--"if you but knew, if only you
could believe! It is so real to me, so true, so overwhelming, the
greatest thing of all! How can it be otherwise to you?... No: do not
think I complain, do not think I blame you or have room in my heart for
any resentment. But, oh my dear! were I only able to make you
understand, think what life could be to us, to you and me. What could
it withhold that we desired? You with your wit, your strength, your
skill, your poise--I with my great love to inspire and sustain
you--what a pair we should make! what happiness would be ours! Think,
Michael--think!"
"I have thought, Liane," he returned in accents as kind as the hands
that held her. "I have thought well..."
"Yes?" She lifted her face so near that their breaths mingled, and he
was conscious of the allure of tremulous and parted lips.
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