Page:Adams - A Child of the Age.djvu/173

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A CHILD OF THE AGE
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gotten it now. Once, or twice, or three, or four times, I could have laughed outright at all this; but restrained myself with the feeling that I did well to restrain myself. I drank more champagne, and then fell into a somewhat dreamy state.

They were talking of French literature; a string of names and words scarcely comprehended by me, but there was light laughter in the yellowy air and restrained sadness. There was no one in the room now but we. The footmen had all gone. I was slowly twirling my champagne glass round, with my eyes on it: the light laughter was foaming in the yellowy air, and the sadness almost withdrawn.

Suddenly she, Rayne, rose. I started up. Corisande rose. Then they were moving round the table, and I was with my backward hand on the door-handle, and my face towards her. I had opened the door. She had passed out, my lovely Rayne! The young woman was by me, Corisande, the cleft pomegranate, the sweet soft harlot body. I crushed my right hand on the smooth hardness in it. I could have gripped that soft white throat just below the rounded half-shadow of the apple and throttled her, and, as I cast down the breathless limp body, softer but less sweet, the harlot body, been glad with a quiet half-fierce gladness. I closed the door softly upon her, and came back to my place. Sir James was looking at something just before and below his eyes, with the little smile round the corners of his mouth. I all but loved him, for having a swift thought of 'Arise begone,' I had another of one sitting in a summer parlour, with the fat closing upon the blade. I too had a little smile round the corners of the mouth.

We talked in a quiet orderly way for a little; and then went upstairs together.

Rayne was seated in her old place on the sofa, looking half-absently before her. Miss Cholmondeley lying back in the easy chair in which I had sat. She stopped speaking as we came in; looked up at us, or at Sir James, and smiled slightly.

We talked in low half-nonchalant tones. The night breeze bulged in the window-curtain behind Rayne