Lee was aware of a marked sense of pleasure at the closeness
to him of Anette; settling back, she willingly, voluntarily, leaned her
firm elastic body against him; her legs, as evident in woolen stockings
as his own, were thrust frankly out toward the flames.
"I'll meet her," he heard Peyton say, and realized that they were still
talking about Mina Raff. She wouldn't attract him, Lee Randon, in the
least, he was sure of that ... no wistful April moon. What, then, did
engage him? He was unable to say, he didn't know. It was something
intangible, a charm without definite form; and his thoughts returned to
Cytherea--if he could grasp the secret of her fascination he would be
able to settle a great many disturbing feelings and needs. Yes, what
she mutely expressed was what, beneath his comprehension, he had come
to long for. He had never recognized it as the property of any woman
nor satisfied it in himself.
Here, certainly, his loyalty, his affection for Fanny, weren't damaged;
he was, he thought, beyond assault there. It was only that, together
with his fidelity to his wife, an increasing uneasiness possessed him,
an unabated separate interest in life, in women. He was searching for
something essential, he couldn't discover what; but, dismissing the
problem of how he'd act if he found it, the profound conviction
remained that when his hopeful quest was over then indeed he'd be old,
finished, drained.
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