If
she doesn't love him, he destroys himself."
Susan covered her face with her bare arms and sank down at the
dressing table. "For pity's sake," she cried brokenly, "spare
me--spare me!"
He seized her roughly by the shoulder. "Just flesh!" he said.
"Beautiful flesh--but just female. And look what a fool
you've made of me--and the best man in the world dead--over
yonder! Spare you? Oh, you'll pull through all right.
You'll pull through everything and anything--and come out
stronger and better looking and better off. Spare you! Hell!
I'd have killed you instead of him if I'd known I was going to
hate you after I'd done the other thing. I'd do it yet--you
dirty skirt!"
He jerked her unresisting form to its feet, gazed at her
like an insane fiend. With a sob he seized her in his arms,
crushed her against his breast, sunk his fingers deep into her
hair, kissed it, grinding his teeth as he kissed. "I hate
you, damn you--and I love you!" He flung her back into the
chair--out of his life. "You'll never see me again!" And he
fled from the room--from the house.
XXV
THE big ship issued from the Mersey into ugly waters--into the
weather that at all seasons haunts and curses the coasts of
Northern Europe. From Saturday until Wednesday Susan and
Madame Deliere had true Atlantic seas and skies; and the ship
leaped and shivered and crashed along like a brave cavalryman
in the rear of a rout--fighting and flying, flying and
fighting.
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