- perately to cry but bit her lip and held back
tears.
“I think I know what you mean, Cynthia,” F said softly. “I don’t know much about love anc attraction and that sort of thing, but I know tl was happier kissing you than I’ve ever been ir life. I—I wish that last night hadn’t happe I hate myself.”
“You need n’t. It was more my fault than y( I’m a pretty bad egg, I guess; and the booze you holding me was too much. I hate myself, I’ve spoiled the nicest thing that ever happene me.” She looked up at him, her eyes bright tears. “I did love you, Hugh. I loved yo much as I could love any one.”
Hugh put his arms around her and drew ht him. Then he bent his head and kissed her ge There was no passion in his embrace, but there infinite tenderness. He felt spiritually and ] ically weak, as if all his emotional resources been quite spent. ^
“I think that I love you more than I ever before,” he whispered.
If he had shown any passion, if there had any warmth in his kiss, Cynthia might have bel him, but she was aware only of his gentleness, pushed him back and drew out of his arms. “No,” she said sharply; “you don’t love
