At last, she leaned over him and whispered breathlessly, "Maybe it is
really a good thing, David. You did need a vacation, and now you are
bound to get it."
David smiled at her persistent philosophy of optimism.
Again there was silence. Finally, with an effort he spoke. "Carol,
I--I could have thanked God for letting us know this two years ago.
Then you would have escaped."
"David, don't say that. Just this minute I was thanking Him in my
heart because we didn't know until we belonged to each other."
She lifted her lips to him, as she always did when deeply moved, and
instinctively he lowered his to meet them. But before he touched her
he stopped, stricken by a bitter thought, and pushed her face away
almost roughly.
"Oh, Carol," he cried, "I can't. I can never kiss you again. I have
loved to touch you, always. I have loved your cool, sweet, powdery
skin, and your lips,--I have always thought of your lips as a crimson
bow in a pale pink cloud,--I--I have loved to touch you. I have always
adored your face, the look of it as well as the feel of it. I have
_loved_ to kiss you."
Carol slipped an arm beneath his head and strove to pull his hand away
from his face.
"Go on and do it," she whispered passionately.
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