"Yes," he said; "why not take advantage of her, as everybody else has
done?"
"Some people's scrupulousness comes rather late," I said.
"To those who don't understand," he had the brazenness to say. "What is
done is done. It's a rough beginning--awfully rough on her. The end must
atone somehow. If I don't win her I shall be punished enough; but if I do,
it will be because she loves me. And pray God"--He stopped, with that look.
It is a number of years since a young man has looked at me in that way, but
a woman does not forget.
It was rather difficult telling to Kitty the story of her old lover's
marriage, as I took it on myself to do. Not that she winced perceptibly;
but I fear she has taken the thing home, and is dwelling on it--certain
features of it--in a way that can do no good. From a word she lets slip now
and then, I gather that she is brooding over that fancy of hers that Cecil
Harshaw offered himself by way of reparation, as she was falling between
two stools,--her own home and her lover's,--to save her from the ground.
As since that rainy night in the wagon she has never distinctly referred
to this theory of his conduct, I have no excuse for bringing it up, even
to attack it.
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