He released her and stepped back, crying:
"Oh, my God! I--I didn't mean that. Forgive me. PLEASE." She said
nothing, and he stammered desperately again: "You'll hate me now,
of course, but--I don't know what ails me. I forgot myself--you--
everything. It was unpardonable, and I ought to be shot." He
started off down the blind street, his whole body cold with
apprehension and self-disgust.
"Where are you going?" she called after him.
"I don't know. I can't stay here now. Oh, Mrs. Cortlandt, what can
I say?"
"Do you intend to leave me here in the middle of this--"
"No, no! Of course not. I'm rattled, that's all. I've just got a
cowardly desire to flee and butt my head against the nearest wall.
That's what I ought to do. I don't know what possessed me. I don't
know what you'll think of me."
"We won't speak of it now. Try to compose yourself and find our
lodging-place."
"Why, yes, of course. I'll see that you're fixed up comfortably
and then I'll get out."
"Oh, you mustn't leave me!" she cried in a panic. "I couldn't stay
in that awful place alone." She drew a little nearer to him as if
demanding his protection.
A wave of tenderness swept over him. She was just a girl, after
all, he reflected, and if it were not for what had happened a
moment before the most natural thing in the world would be to take
her in his arms and comfort her.
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