Gyp detached his arms from her completely, sat down on an
old oak chest, and motioned him to the window-seat. Her heart thumped
pitifully; cold waves of almost physical sickness passed through and
through her. She had smelt brandy in his breath when he was close to
her. It was like being in the cage of a wild beast; it was like being
with a madman! The remembrance of him with his fingers stretched out
like claws above her baby was so vivid at that moment that she could
scarcely see him as he was, sitting there quietly, waiting for what she
was going to say. And fixing her eyes on him, she said softly:
"You say you love me, Gustav. I tried to love you, too, but I never
could--never from the first. I tried very hard. Surely you care what a
woman feels, even if she happens to be your wife."
She could see his face quiver; and she went on:
"When I found I couldn't love you, I felt I had no right over you. I
didn't stand on my rights. Did I?"
Again his face quivered, and again she hurried on:
"But you wouldn't expect me to go all through my life without ever
feeling love--you who've felt it so many times?" Then, clasping her
hands tight, with a sort of wonder at herself, she murmured: "I AM in
love. I've given myself."
He made a queer, whining sound, covering his face. And the beggar's
tag: "'Ave a feelin' 'eart, gentleman--'ave a feelin' 'eart!" passed
idiotically through Gyp's mind.
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