I can't face it. It tears my very self."
"My darling! My own love!" he said.
"And then--and then--I had such an awful doubt of you, Dicky. I thought
your love was dead, and I thought--and I thought I couldn't hope to
hold you--after that. I'd got to free you somehow. Oh, Dicky, what agony
love can be!"
"Hush, darling, hush!" he said.
She lay in his arms, her eyes looking straight up to his. "I never meant
to do it, dear,--never meant to win your love in the first place. I
always knew I wasn't worthy of it. I think I told you so. Dicky, listen!
I've had a horrid life. My mother was divorced when Muff and I were
youngsters at school. My father died only a year after, and no one ever
cared what happened to us after that. We had an aunt--Lady Beatrice
Farringmore--and she launched me in society when I left school. But she
never cared--she never cared. She was far too busy with her own concerns.
I just went with the crowd and pleased myself. No one ever took anything
seriously in our set. It was just a mad rush of gaiety from morning till
night. We were like a lot of empty-headed, mischievous children, horribly
selfish of course, but not meaning any harm--at least not most of us.
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