It was as if she
understood his weariness and knew that the fire was infinitely
comforting. Anthony frowned; he did not wish to be understood. It was
irritating--indelicate.
He sat on one of the bunks, and when she took her place on the other he
studied her covertly, with side glances, for he was beginning to feel
strangely self-conscious. It was the situation rather than the girl that
gained upon him, but he felt shamed that he should be so uncertain of
himself and so liable to expose some weakness before the girl.
That in turn raised a blindly selfish desire to make her feel and
acknowledge his mastery. He did not define the emotion exactly, nor see
clearly what he wished to do, but in a general way he wanted to be
necessary to her, and to let her know at the same time that she was
nothing to him. He was quite sure that the opposite was the truth just
now.
At this point he shrugged his shoulders, angry that he should have
slipped so easily into the character of a sullen boy, hating a
benefactor for no reason other than his benefactions; but the same
vicious impulse made him study the face of Sally Fortune with an
impersonal, coldly critical eye.
Pages:
268
269
270
271
272
273
274
275
276
277
278
279
280
281
282
283
284
285
286
287
288
289
290
291
292