"men don't like me, they are afraid of me; but the
women make me unhappy -- they tell me their troubles;
I don't want them to, I keep away from them."

"I understand that," she declared eagerly, "I
would tell you anything."

"You are different; I want you to tell me...
things. But the things I want to hear may not
come to you. I would never be satisfied with a little.
The Makimmons are all that way -- everything
or nothing."

She gently loosened her hand, and stood up, facing
him. Her countenance, turned to the light,
shone like a white flame; it was tensely aquiver with
passionate earnestness, lambent with the flowering
of her body, of dim desire, the heritage of flesh. She
spoke in a voice that startled Gordon by its new
depth, the brave thrill of its undertone.

"I could only give all," she said. "I am like that
too. What do you wish me to tell you? What can
I say that will help you?"

"Ever since I first saw you going to the Stenton
school," he hurried on, "I have thought about you.
I could hardly wait for the Christmas holidays, to
have you in the stage, or for the summer when you
came home. Nobody knows; it has been a secret
it seemed so useless. You were like a... a
star," he told her.

"How could I know?" she asked; "I was only a

[[122]]

p121 _ -chap- _ toc-1 _ p122w _ toc-2 _ +chap+ _ p123

v?