Читать книгу The Lonely Warrior онлайн

19 страница из 69

She drew away from him to a distant dim corner, from which her face shone palely like a white flower in the night.

“Stacey,” she called softly, “come here!”

He obeyed, and all at once her slender arms were about his neck, pulling his head down, her fragrant hair was against his face, and her lips were pressed to his in such a willing kiss as she had never given him before. It left him trembling from head to foot. His heart beat madly. He could not speak.

But she could. “Now will you forget me, Stacey?” she murmured, with a low mischievous laugh.

Whatever she felt, it was certainly not what he was feeling. Well, that was right. He was glad of that—he supposed.

In the hall, however, she did not laugh. “Oh, Stacey,” she said, “come every day until you go! Come twice a day, three times! Come all day long!”

He kissed her fingers and stumbled dizzily out of the door.

When he reached the sidewalk a woman, muffled in a heavy fur coat, came toward him. “Mrs. Latimer!” he cried out in surprise, when she was close to him.