Читать книгу The Ball of Fire онлайн

91 страница из 101

She had not drawn away from his embrace, she had not removed her hands from his clasp; instead, she had yielded somewhat towards this old friend.

“I can’t do without you any longer, Gail!” he impetuously went on, detecting that yielding in her. “You must marry me! Tell me that you will!”

She disengaged herself from him very gently.

“I can’t, Howard.” Her voice was so low that he could scarcely catch the words, and her face was filled with sorrow.

He held tense and rigid where she had left him.

“You can’t,” he repeated, numbly.

“It is impossible,” and her face cleared of all its perplexity. She was grave, and serious, and saddened; but still sure. “For the first time I know my own mind clearly, and I know that I do not now, and never can, care for you in the way you wish.”

He rose abruptly and stood before her. His brows were knotted, and there was a hard look on his face.

“I came too late!” he bitterly charged. “They’ve already spoiled you!”

Gail sprang from the couch, and a round red spot flashed into each cheek. She had never looked so beautiful as when she stood before him, her tiny fists clenched and her eyes blazing. She almost replied to him, then she rang the bell for the butler, and hurried upstairs. Wild as was her tumult, she stood with her hand on the knob of her dressing-room until she heard the front door open and close; then she ran in and threw herself downward on the chintz-covered divan, and cried!