She was helpless as an infant before the
searching pain that wracked her
"I can't stand it--I can't stand it," she moaned, and in her distress
stretched out her little hand for relief as a baby might to its mother.
The childlike appeal of the flinching violet eyes in the tortured face
moved him strangely. He was accounted a hard man, not without reason. His
eyes were those of a gambler, cold and vigilant. It was said that he could
follow an undeviating course without relenting at the ruin and misery
wrought upon others by his operations. But the helpless loveliness of this
exquisitely dainty child-woman, the sense of intimacy bred of a common
peril endured, of the strangeness of their environment and of her utter
dependence upon him, carried the man out of himself and away from
conventions.
He stooped and gathered her into his arms, walking the floor with her and
cheering her as if she had indeed been the child they both for the moment
conceived her.
"You don't know how it hurts," she pleaded between sobs, looking up into
the strong face so close to hers.
Pages:
37
38
39
40
41
42
43
44
45
46
47
48
49
50
51
52
53
54
55
56
57
58
59
60
61