I see mother yonder. Take me to her."
Turning away, flushed and angry, from her demure smile, he became
bitterly conscious that even had they been alone, under most favorable
circumstances, he would have lacked speech for real love-making. He felt
that conviction inwardly. He wondered whether he had the capacity for
loving as he had read of men loving. It made him a bit ashamed to think
of himself as violently protesting, hungrily pleading. A moment before
he had been angry because she doubted his love. He knew that he admired
her, respected, desired her. Now he argued with himself, and convinced
his soul that his emotions constituted love. And having convinced
himself, he determined to seek further opportunity of convincing her. It
was truly an academic way of settling matters so riotously impatient of
calculation as affairs of the heart, and his determination would have
appealed to Miss Presson's sense of the humorous more acutely still had
he undertaken to explain his emotions of that moment.
Thelismer Thornton, strolling amiably through the lobby throng, came and
put his hand on Harlan's shoulder.
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