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Du Bois, W. E. B. (William Edward Burghardt), 1868-1963

"The Quest of the Silver Fleece A Novel"

Then he
paused again, still beyond arm's-length, looking at her with fear-struck
eyes. The cotton on her head shivered and dropped in a pure mass of
white and silvery snow about her limbs. Her hands fell limply and the
horror flamed in her wet eyes. He struggled with his voice but it grated
and came hoarse and hard from his quivering throat.
"Zora!"
"Yes, Bles."
"You--you told me--you were--pure."
She was silent, but her body went all a-tremble. He stepped forward
until she could almost touch him; there standing straight and tall he
glared down upon her.
"Answer me," he whispered in a voice hard with its tight held sobs. A
misery darkened her face and the light died from her eyes, yet she
looked at him bravely and her voice came low and full as from afar.
"I asked you what it meant to be pure, Bles, and--and you told--and I
told you the truth."
"What it meant!--what it meant!" he repeated in the low, tense anguish.

"But--but, Bles--" She faltered; there came an awful pleading in her
eyes; her hand groped toward him; but he stepped slowly back--"But,
Bles--you said--willingly--you said--if--if she knew--"
He thundered back in livid anger:
"Knew! All women know! You should have _died_!"
Sobs were rising and shaking her from head to foot, but she drove them
back and gripped her breasts with her hands.


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