Without a sound, Mrs. Cortlandt picked up her skirts and fled into
the darkness, Kirk stumbling along behind her, both guiding
themselves by instinct rather than sight. At last she stopped out
of breath, and he overtook her.
"You mustn't run through these dark alleys," he cried, sharply.
"You'll break your neck." Half impatient at this hysterical
behavior, he seized her by the arm.
"Oh, I'm so frightened!" she breathed, and he felt her tremble. "A
drunken man frightens me--" Involuntarily she hid her face against
his breast, then laughed nervously. "Don't mind me, please. It's
the one thing I can't stand. I'll be all right in a moment." She
lifted her white face, and her eyes were luminous in the gloom.
"I'm very glad you don't drink." Her hand crept up to the lapel of
his coat. "What will you think of me?" she said, tremulously.
Before he realized what he was doing his arms had closed around
her and his lips had met hers. It may have been the romance of the
night, the solitude, the intoxicating warmth of her breath--at any
rate, he lost his head and knew nothing save that she was a woman
and he a man. As for her, she offered no resistance, made no sign
beyond a startled sigh as their lips came together.
But, impulsive as his action had been, it was no more sudden than
his recoil.
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