SON OF THE WIND
"Yes, I know," he groaned, "I know, Blanche—I've been a brute. I ought to have had it all out square with you, but it's done now all wrong. You've got to forgive me!"
It was the first time in his life he had ever made that statement. He had to drag the words out of his proud throat. She stood looking imploringly at him as if what he demanded of her was as hard for her as what he had exacted of himself.
"It wasn't done in cold blood; part was done before I even saw you, and after I saw the horse I give you my word I hardly knew what I was doing! I forgot how you could feel! I forgot how every one but I felt." He put his arm around her and pulled her toward him. Her body, tense as a bow, strained away from him; but just the grasp of her, having her again tangibly his own, faintly responsive in spite of herself, was comfort enough after the horrid moments of separation. He pressed her face against his own. "Come," he entreated, "it's for you to be generous! Be good to me, forgive!"
She trembled reluctant, but as if the contact was too much for reason she pressed her cheek against his. "I can't bear to say it. I can't bear to have that word spoken between us! I don't want to forgive you. I'd much rather have you forgive me. I
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