He embraced her, kissing her cheek, then her neck. In his muscular pudgy hand was a photograph, frayed at the corners, soiled from the contact of many hands: the portrait of a youth of eighteen. ” “You did not——” “Wait, Annabel! When I arrived in London I went to live in the cheapest place I could find. The brown house, almost exactly the same as the Beck’s, turned black as pitch in the gloom. Probably something he had eaten. “And to think that it’s not a full year ago since I was a black-hearted rebel school-girl, distressed, puzzled, perplexed, not understanding that this great force of love was bursting its way through me! All those nameless discontents—they were no more than love’s birth-pangs. Much too young for you. You were probably robbed in Hong-Kong. Thwart me, and I become your mortal enemy. I wasn't taught that; I simply fell into it from contact. He heard the door close; and in a little while he fell into a doze; and there came a dream filled with broken pictures, each one of which the girl dominated. Why had he kissed her? What had led him into that? Neither love nor passion— utter blankness so far as reducing the act to terms.
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