It was my final lie in that
house of mendacity.
He drew a satisfied breath, and lifting my hand, held it to his
lips and kissed it.
"I can hardly believe it is you," he said. "I have to hold firmly
to your hand or you will disappear. Can't you move your chair
closer? You are miles away." So I did it, for he was not to be
excited.
After a little--
"It's awfully good of you to do this. I have been desperately
sorry, Kit, about the other night. It was a ruffianly thing to
do--to kiss you, when I thought--"
"You are to keep very still," I reminded him. He kissed my hand
again, but he persisted.
"I was mad--crazy." I tried to give him some medicine, but he
pushed the spoon aside. "You will have to listen," he said. "I am
in the depths of self-disgust. I--I can't think of anything else.
You see, you seemed so convinced that I was the blackguard that
somehow nothing seemed to matter."
"I have forgotten it all," I declared generously, "and I would be
quite willing to be friends, only, you remember you said--"
"Friends!" his voice was suddenly reckless, and he raised on his
elbow. "Friends! Who wants to be friends? Kit, I was almost
delirious that night. The instant I held you in my arms--It was
all over. I loved you the first time I saw you. I--I suppose I'm
a fool to talk like this.
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