She haunted him with a troublesome insistence.
He had loved her. She had loved him. If that love had gone glimmering
there still remained memory from which he could not escape, memories
of caresses and embraces, of mutual passion, of all they had been to
each other through a time when they desired only to be all things to
each other. These things arose like ghosts out of forgotten chambers
in his mind. He could not kill memory, and since he was a man, a
physically perfect man, virile and unspent, memory tortured him.
He could not escape the consequences of being, the dominant impulses
of life. No normal man can. He may think he can. He may rest secure
for a time in that belief,--but it will fail him. And of this
Hollister now became aware.
He made every effort to shake off this new besetment, this fresh
assault upon the tranquility he had attained. But he could not abolish
recollection. He could not prevent his mind from dwelling upon this
woman who had once meant so much to him, nor his flesh from responding
to the stimulus of her nearness.
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