We'll pull out of this place, Bess, and get away as far as ever we can."
"Oh yes," she said uneasily.
"I don't know where I can go to get away from myself, but I'll try, and you
shall have all the pretty frocks that you care for. You'll like that. Give me
that kiss now, Bess. Ye gods! it's good to put one's arm round a woman's waist
again."
Then came the fulfilment of the prophecy within the brain. If his arm were thus
round Maisie's waist and a kiss had just been given and taken between them,--
why then . . . He pressed the girl more closely to himself because the pain
whipped him. She was wondering how to explain a little accident to the
Melancolia. At any rate, if this man really desired the solace of her company--
and certainly he would relapse into his original slough if she withdrew it--he
would not be more than just a little vexed.
It would be delightful at least to see what would happen, and by her teachings
it was good for a man to stand in certain awe of his companion.
She laughed nervously, and slipped out of his reach.
"I shouldn't worrit about that picture if I was you," she began, in the hope of
turning his attention.
"It's at the back of all my canvases somewhere. Find it, Bess; you know it as
well as I do.
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