Suddenly she felt her heart
throbbing in quick short beats-her cheeks burned. They were alone--even
her little maid had gone out. Why was he so miserably indifferent? She
stumbled to her feet, and suddenly stooping down laid her burning cheeks
against his.
"Kingston," she said, "you are so cruel--and I am so lonely. Can't you
see that I am miserable? Kiss me!"
Brooks sat petrified, utterly amazed at this self-yielding on the part of
the last woman in this world whom he would ever have thought capable of
anything of the sort.
"Kiss me--at once."
He touched her lips timorously. Then she sprang away from him, her
cheeks aflame, her eyes on fire, her hair strangely ruffled. She
pointed to the door.
"Please go--quickly."
He picked up his hat.
"But, Mary! I--"
"Please!"
She stamped her foot.
"But--"
"I will write. You shall hear from me to-morrow. But if you have any
pity for me at all you will go now--this moment."
He rose and went. She heard him turn the handle of the door, heard his
footsteps upon the stone stairs outside.
She counted them idly.
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