You get 'em
all. And Nevile's biting his nails for it. And a free man. Come now."
She had listened, that's certain; she hadn't been displeased. He had seen
her eyes grow dreamy, he had marked her rising breast. Rising and falling,
rising and falling, like lilies swayed by flowing water. That betokened no
storm, nor flood; that meant the stirring of the still deeps, not by
violent access, but by slow-moving, slow-gathered, inborn forces. Had he
had eloquence, he thought, as he watched her, he had won. But he was
anxious. She was such a deep one.
[Illustration: He had eloquence, he thought, as he watched her, he had
won. But he was anxious. She was such a deep one.]
When she spoke there sounded to be a tinge of weariness in her voice; she
dragged her sentences, as if she foresaw her own acts, and was tired in
advance. She seemed almost to be pitying her fate. At first she looked
down at her hands in her lap, at her fingers idly interweaving; but midway
of her drawn-out soliloquy--for she seemed to be talking to herself--she
turned him her eyes, and he plumbed their depths in vain.
"It's very nice of you to be interested in me. You are much more
interested than I am--and it's a compliment, a great compliment.
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