Lee's mind shifted to a speculation about the cause
of their--their accident. No conscious act, no desire, of his had
brought it on them; and it was evident that no conscious wish of hers
had materialized their unrestrainable kisses. Savina's life, beyond
question, must have been largely spent in hiding, combatting, her
secret--the fact that her emotion was too great for life.
However, Lee Randon didn't try to tell himself that no other man had
shared his discovery; indeed, Savina, too, had wisely avoided that
challenge to his experience and wisdom. Like her he deliberately turned
away from the past; and, in the natural chemistry of that act, the
provision for his masculine egotism, it was dissolved into nothingness.
He was concentrated on the incident in the library: dancing with her,
he had held her in a far greater, a prolonged, intimacy of contact;
something in the moment, a surprising of her defences, a slight
weariness in a struggle which must often seem to her unendurable, had
betrayed her. Nothing, then, than what had occurred, could have been
farther from his mind; he had never connected Mrs. Grove with such a
possibility; she hadn't, the truth was, at first attracted him in that
way. Now he thought that he had been blind to have missed her
resemblance to Cytherea. She was Cytherea! This, in a measure,
accounted for him, since, with so much to consider, he badly needed an
accounting.
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