On the ninth day he had finished supper with Mary Josephine when the
telephone rang. He rose to answer it. It was Miriam Kirkstone.
"He has returned," she said.
That was all. The words were in a choking voice. He answered and hung
up the receiver. He knew a change had come into his face when he turned
to Mary Josephine. He steeled himself to a composure that drew a
questioning tenseness into her face. Gently he stroked her soft hair,
explaining that Shan Tung had returned and that he was going to see
him. In his bedroom he strapped his Service automatic under his coat.
At the door, ready to go, he paused. Mary Josephine came to him and put
her hands to his shoulders. A strange unrest was in her eyes, a
question which she did not ask.
Something whispered to him that it was the last time. Whatever happened
now, tonight must leave him clean. His arms went around her, he drew
her close against his breast, and for a space he held her there,
looking into her eyes.
"You love me?" he asked softly.
"More than anything else in the world," she whispered.
"Kiss me, Mary Josephine."
Her lips pressed to his.
He released her from his arms, slowly, lingeringly.
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