There was more of passion than affection
in his manner, and Marian felt and regretted this, though her feeling
was not a very clearly defined one--it was rather an instinct than a
thought, and it was latent, and quite subservient to her love for him.
"Love! angel! how enchanting you are," he exclaimed, catching her in his
arms and pressing kisses on her cheek and lips and neck.
Glowing with color, Marian strove to release herself. "Let me go--let us
leave this place, dear Thurston," she pleaded, attempting to rise.
"Why? Why are you in such a hurry? Why do you wish to leave me?" he
asked, without releasing his hold.
"It is late! Dear Thurston, it is late," she said, in vague alarm.
"That does not matter--I am with you."
"They will be anxious about me, pray let us go! They will be so
anxious!" she said, with increasing distress, trying to get away.
"Thurston! Thurston! You distress me beyond measure," she exclaimed in
great trouble.
But he stopped her breath with kisses.
Marian suddenly ceased to struggle, and by a strong effort of will she
became perfectly calm. And looking in his eyes, with her clear, steady
gaze, she said:
"Thurston, I have ceased to strive. But if you are a man of honor, you
will release me.
Pages:
153
154
155
156
157
158
159
160
161
162
163
164
165
166
167
168
169
170
171
172
173
174
175
176
177