But even now they had not touched--they had not moved from their places.
They were urged towards one another by some fierce power but also some
great suspense still restrained them.
Then Clare spoke, hurriedly, almost pleadingly.
"But Peter, listen--before I say any more--you must know me better. I think
that it is just because I love you so much that I see myself clearly to-day
as I have never seen myself before--although I have, I suppose really known
... things ... but I have denied them to myself. But now I know that all
that I say is true--"
"I am ready," he said, smiling. But she did not smile back at him, she was
intensely serious, she spoke without moving her eyes from his face.
"It is not altogether my fault. I have been an only child and everything
that I have wanted I have always had. I have despised my mother and even my
father because they have given in to me--that is not a pleasant thing to
know. And now comfort, happiness, an absence of all misery, these things
are essential--"
"I will look after you," said Peter. It was almost with irritation that she
brushed aside his assurance.
"Yes, yes, I know, but you must understand that it's more than that. If I
am unhappy I am another creature you haven't seen ... you don't know.... If
I am frightened--"
"But Clare, dear, we're all like that--"
"No, it's sheer wickedness with me.
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