She changes color.
"You wouldn't!"
"Wouldn't I!"
She rises hastily, and stands looking down at me. I am quite sure
at that moment that she detests me, and I rather like it. There
are always times when we detest the people we love.
"If you are going to be arbitrary just because you can--"
"Yes?"
"Marsh and the rest are in the smoking room. Their sitting-room is
empty."
Quite calmly, as if we are going below for a clean handkerchief or
a veil or a cigarette, we stroll down the great staircase of the
liner to the Turners' sitting-room, and close the door.
And--I kiss her.
End of Project Gutenberg Etext The After House, by Mary Roberts Rinehart
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