"As I have a witness," he said at last, "I've paid. Good-by!"
He crushed her to him once, as though she were no more than a
flower, as though he would take the heart of her fragrance. Then,
even as she felt the heave of his great body, panting at the touch
of her, mad at the scent of her hair, he put her back from him with
a sob, a groan. As when the knife had begun its work, his scarred
fingers caught her white arms. He bent over, afraid to look into
her eyes, afraid to ask if her throat panted too, afraid to risk
the red curve of her lips, so close now to his, so sure to ruin
him. He bent and kissed her hands, his lips hot on them; and so
left her trembling.
[Illustration: He bent and kissed her hands.]
CHAPTER XXII
THE WAY OF A MAID
It is the blessing of the humble that they have simplicity of
mental processes. Not that Hector himself perhaps would thus have
described himself. The curve of the black crow's wing on his
somewhat retreating forehead, the tilt of his little hat, the swing
of his body above the hips as he walked, all bespoke Hector's
opinion of himself to be a good one.
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