Титан

F. A. Cowperwood, Guardian

           

           "Youarehavingapleasanttimeteasingme,aren’tyou?"heasked.

           "Iamonlytired,"shereplied."Theeveningboresme.Reallyitdoes.Iwishwewereallhome."

           "Wecangowhenyousay,nodoubt."

           Astheyreachedtheices,andshetookonefromhishand,shesurveyedhimwiththosecool,dullblueeyesofherseyesthathadtheflatqualityofunglazedDutchtiles.

           "Iwishyouwouldforgiveme,"shesaid."Iwasrude.Icouldn’thelpit.Iamalloutofsortswithmyself."

           "Ihadn’tfeltyouwererude,"heobserved,lyinggrandly,hismoodtowardherchangingentirely.

           "OhyesIwas,andIhopeyouwillforgiveme.Isincerelywishyouwould."

           "Idowithallmyheartthelittlethatthereistoforgive."

           Hewaitedtotakeherback,andyieldedhertoayouthwhowaswaiting.Hewatchedhertripawayinadance,andeventuallyledhermothertothetrap.Berenicewasnotwiththemonthehomedrive;someoneelsewasbringingher.Cowperwoodwonderedwhenshewouldcome,andwherewasherroom,andwhethershewasreallysorry,andAshefellasleepBereniceFlemingandherslate-blueeyeswerefillinghismindcompletely.

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