She seems instinctively to know
and feel and understand so many things that I've only learned by
bitter experience. She would never have made the mistakes I've made. I
don't think your face will make you any the less her man. But if it
does--I was your first woman. I did love you, Robin. I could again. I
could creep back into your arms if they were empty, and be glad. Would
it seem strange?"
And still Hollister stared dumbly. He heard her with a little rancor,
a strange sense of the futility of what she said. Why hadn't she
acquired this knowledge of herself long ago? It was too late now. The
old fires were dead. But if the new one he had kindled to warm himself
were to be extinguished, could he go back and bask in the warmth that
smoldered in this woman's eyes? He wondered. And he felt a faint
irritation, as if some one had accused him of being faithless.
"Do you think it's strange that I should feel and speak like this?"
Myra persisted. "Do people never profit by their mistakes? Am I so
unlovable a creature? Couldn't you either forget or forgive?"
He shook his head.
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