I knew it was due. And--oh, I know, I'm just a feeble
female of vanity compounded--I was proud to have such a man swept
off his feet by me, by little me. I encouraged him. I have no
excuse. Last night would not have happened had I not encouraged
him. And I, and not he, was the sinner last night when he asked
me. And I told him no, impossible, as you should know why without
my repeating it to you. And I was maternal to him, very much
maternal. I let him take me in his arms, let myself rest against
him, and, for the first time because it was to be the for-ever last
time, let him kiss me and let myself kiss him. You . . . I know
you understand . . . it was his renunciation. And I didn't love
Sonny. I don't love him. I have loved you, and you only, all the
time."
She waited, and felt her husband's arm pass around her shoulder and
under her own arm, and yielded to his drawing down of her to him.
"You did have me worried more than a bit," he admitted, "until I
was afraid I was going to lose you. And . . . " He broke off in
patent embarrassment, then gripped the idea courageously.
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