The evidence could not be mistaken. They had expected him to come
back more nearly dead than alive, and St. Pierre's wife had
prepared for the thing she had thought inevitable. Even his bed
was nicely turned down, its fresh white sheets inviting an
occupant!
And David, looking at St. Pierre's wife again, felt his heart
beating hard in his breast at the look which was in her eyes. It
was not the scintillation of laughter, and the flame in her cheeks
was not embarrassment. She was not amused. The ludicrousness of
her mislaid plans had not struck her as they had struck him. She
had placed the binoculars on the table, and slowly she came to
him. Her hands reached out, and her fingers rested like the touch
of velvet on his arms.
"It was splendid!" she said softly, "It was splendid!"
She was very near, her breast almost touching him, her hands
creeping up until the tips of her fingers rested on his shoulders,
her scarlet mouth so close he could feel the soft breath of it in
his face.
"It was splendid!" she whispered again.
And then, suddenly, she rose up on her tiptoes and kissed him. So
swiftly was it done that she was gone before he sensed that wild
touch of her lips against his own.
Pages:
257
258
259
260
261
262
263
264
265
266
267
268
269
270
271
272
273
274
275
276
277
278
279
280
281