As she
stood thus, the soft silk of her wrapper falling in straight folds about
her; her loosened hair shadowing her white face, she looked pathetically
small and young, and Errington suddenly relinquished his hold of her and
stepped back, his hands slowly clenching in the effort not to take her in
his arms.
Something tugged at his heart, pulling against the desire that ran riot
in his veins--something of the infinite tenderness of love which exists
side by side with its passion.
"Don't look like that," he said hoarsely. "I'll--I'll go."
He crossed the room, reeling a little in his stride, and, unlocking the
door, flung it open.
She stared at him, incredulous relief in her face, while the tears still
slid unchecked down her cheeks.
"Max--" she stammered.
"Yes," he returned. "You're free of me. I don't suppose you'll believe
it, but I love you too much to . . . take . . . what you won't give."
A minute later the door closed behind him and she heard his footsteps
descending the stairs.
With a low moan she sank down beside the bed, her face hidden in her
hands, sobbing convulsively.
CHAPTER XXIII
PAIN
Summer had come and gone, and Diana, after a brief visit to Crailing,
had returned to town for the winter season.
The Crailing visit had not been altogether without its embarrassments.
It was true that Red Gables was closed and shuttered, so that she had
run no risk of meeting either her husband or Adrienne, but Jerry, in
the character of an engaged young man, had been staying at the Rectory,
and he had allowed Diana to see plainly that his sympathies lay
pre-eminently with Max, and that he utterly condemned her lack of faith
in her husband.
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