She was listening with a curious fascination to the
throb of her heart and the measured beat of the engine; the two seemed to
meet and mingle into one great pulse, thundering against her tired brain.
"Diana"--he spoke again, still in the same toneless voice--"am I to be
forbidden even the outskirts of your life now?"
She moved her head restlessly.
"I don't know--oh, I don't know," she whispered.
She was utterly spent and exhausted. Unconsciously every nerve in her
had responded to the fierce passion of that suffocating kiss, and now
that the tense moment was over she felt drained of all vitality. Her
head drooped listlessly against the cushions of the car and dark shadows
stained her cheeks beneath the wide-opened eyes--eyes that held the
startled, frightened expression of one who has heard for the first time
the beat of Passion's wings.
Gradually, as Errington watched her, the strained look left his face and
was replaced by one of infinite solicitude. She looked so young as she
lay there, huddled against the cushions--hardly more than a child--and he
knew what that mad moment had done for her. It had wakened the woman
within her. He cursed himself softly.
"Diana," he said, leaning forward. "For God's sake, say you forgive me,
child."
The deep pain in his voice pierced through her dulled, senses.
"Why--why did you do it?" she asked tremulously.
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