And yet he did
not look coarsened or hardened by vice. He only looked, to her
pitiful, inexperienced eyes, as if he had been ravaged by some
sickness, as if he had suffered intensely and were doomed to suffer
as long as he lived.
That was the first impression she received of him, and it was that
that made her clasp his hand in both her own and hold it fast.
"Oh, Guy!" she said. "How ill you look!"
His fingers closed hard upon hers. He did not attempt to meet her
earnest gaze. "So you got married to Burke!" he said, ignoring her
exclamation. "It was the best thing you could do. He may not be
exactly showy, but he's respectable. I wonder you want to speak to
me after the way I let you down."
The words were cool, almost casual; yet his hand still held hers in
a quivering grasp. There was something in that grasp that seemed
to plead for understanding. He flashed her a swift look from eyes
that burned with a fitful, feverish fire out of deep hollows. How
well she remembered his eyes! But they had never before looked at
her thus. With every moment that passed she realized that the
change in him was greater than that first glance had revealed.
"Of course I want to speak to you!" she said gently. "I forgave
you long ago--as, I hope, you have forgiven me."
"I!" he said. "My dear girl, be serious!"
Somehow his tone pierced her.
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