He had held her in his
arms--he had kissed this beautiful, joyous creature--this product of
enchantment! Now, more than ever, was he resolved to claim her for his
own. It was as good as settled, in his enraptured mind! Nothing could
keep her from him now. He had loved her, he had waited for her, and he
would have her in spite of everything.
What could it matter to him that she was coveted by all the men who
knew her? He rejoiced in the fact that they were at her feet. It was
left for him to look down upon them in the end, and smile with all the
arrogance of triumphant possession!
Even as he exulted, a dissolving element was flung upon the crystal in
which he saw his own glorification. A harsh, discordant voice was
speaking at his elbow. He turned. Ernie Cronk was standing beside him.
It required a moment of concentration on the part of the infatuated
David to grasp the significance of a certain livid hue in Ernie's
face. The hunchback was looking up at him. His eyes were bleak with
unhappiness. There was no anger in them: only despair.
"That's the fellow," he was saying, his voice cracking hoarsely.
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