Читать книгу The Blind Man's House. A Quiet Story онлайн

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And now as his hand held hers and his wide, staring blue eyes gazed at her, through her, beyond her, as he drew her towards him, closer and closer until her cheek and ear rested against his side and she heard his heart claiming her with its steady possessive beat, she murmured, 'Oliphant!'

Oliphant was Julius' valet, that small, active, devoted, aloof man who, as yet, knew so much more about Julius than she did. He was seated, very straight, beside Curtis the chauffeur.

Julius laughed.

'Oliphant is part of myself—like my waistcoat buttons.' He bent down and kissed her warm sun-drenched cheek.

'Did you see the Church? Do you remember what I told you—about the window and everything?'

'Of course I remember.'

His strong hand moved about her body. Because his blindness strengthened incredibly his sense of touch she felt an especial significance when he touched her. His hand now pressed her breast through her coat, and that pressure was so strong, so certain, that she was divided, as all women of character are when a man possesses them, between joyous resignation and irritated rebellion.