With her would die this newborn comradeship. And Desire's smile,
though insufferable, was sweet. How would it feel to see that bright
look change and pale to cold dislike? Already in imagination he
shivered under the frozen anger of that frank glance.
He could not risk it!
Should he then, ignoring Mary, ascribe his symptoms to their true
cause? By dragging out the horror of that moonlit night, he could
account for any vagary of nerves. But that way of escape was equally
impossible. He could not let that shadow fall across her path of
new-found freedom. Nor would he, in any case, gain much by such
postponement. The wretched professor began to realize that the devil
is indeed the father of lies and that he who sups with him needs a
long spoon.
Meanwhile, Desire was waiting.
He felt that he would like to shake her--sitting there with
untroubled air and face like an inquiring sphinx--to shake her and
kiss her and tell her that there wasn't any Mary and--he brought
himself up with a start. What nonsense was this!
"Look here," he said irritably, "you are all wrong. You really are.
It's perfectly true I've been feeling groggy. But there doesn't have
to be a reason for that, unfortunately. Old Bones warned me that I
might expect all kinds of come-backs. But I'm almost right again
now. Another day or two of this heavenly place and I shan't know
that I have a nerve."
"Yes," critically. "You are better. I should say that the worst was
over.
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