I mustn't shirk."
I studied her, but I couldn't puzzle her out.
"I've been thinking all along that you were simple and transparent," I
said. "Now, I see you are a mystery. What are you hiding from me?"
Her smile was almost coquettish as she replied:
"When a woman makes a mystery of herself to a man, it's for the man's
good."
I took her hand--almost timidly.
"Anita," I said, "do you still--dislike me?"
"I do not--and shall not--love you," she answered. "But you are--"
"More endurable?" I suggested, as she hesitated.
"Less unendurable," she said with raillery. Then she added, "Less
unendurable than profiting by a-creeping up in the dark."
I thought I understood her better than she understood herself. And suddenly
my passion melted in a tenderness I would have said was as foreign to me
as rain to a desert. I noticed that she had a haggard look. "You are very
tired, child," said I. "Good night. I am a different man from what I was
when I came in here."
"And I a different woman," said she, a beauty shining from her that was as
far beyond her physical beauty as--as love is beyond passion.
"A nobler, better woman," I exclaimed, kissing her hand.
She snatched it away.
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