"
She glided from her chair and sank on her knees beside him. Her lips
pleaded. He took her gently, far too gently, into his arms.
"Dear Nora," he begged, "be kind to me. It is for your sake. I know
what love should mean for you, what it must mean for every sweet woman.
You see only the present. It is my hard task to look into the future
for you."
"Can't you understand," she whispered feverishly, "that I would rather
have that six years of your life, and its aftermath, than an eternity
with any other man? Bend down your head, Stephen."
Her hands were clasped around his neck, her lips forced his. For a
moment they remained so, while the room swam around her and her heart
throbbed like a mad thing. Then she slowly unlocked her arms and drew
away. As though unconscious of what she was doing, she found herself
rubbing her lips softly with her handkerchief. She threw herself back
in her chair a little recklessly.
"Very well, Stephen," she said, "you know your heart best. Drink your
coffee and I'll be sensible again directly."
To his horror she was shaken with sobs.
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