Charmond embraced Grace more and more tightly, and the
younger woman could feel her neighbor's breathings grow deeper and
more spasmodic, as though uncontrollable feelings were
germinating.
"After I had left you," she went on, "I regretted something I had
said. I have to make a confession--I must make it!" she
whispered, brokenly, the instinct to indulge in warmth of
sentiment which had led this woman of passions to respond to
Fitzpiers in the first place leading her now to find luxurious
comfort in opening her heart to his wife. "I said to you I could
give him up without pain or deprivation--that he had only been my
pastime. That was untrue--it was said to deceive you. I could
not do it without much pain; and, what is more dreadful, I cannot
give him up--even if I would--of myself alone."
"Why? Because you love him, you mean."
Felice Charmond denoted assent by a movement.
"I knew I was right!" said Grace, exaltedly. "But that should not
deter you," she presently added, in a moral tone.
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