Burlingame called it when he was spouting,"--her upper lip
curled in contempt.
"It isn't you, and you know it," he replied jerkily. She bridled. "Do you
mean to say that you come and read to me without a word of explanation,
so that I shouldn't misunderstand, verses written for another? Am I to be
told now that my eyes aren't eyes of light and eyes of fire, that I
haven't got a Grecian brow? Do you dare to say those verses don't fit
me--except for the Titian hair and heavenly shadows? And that I've got no
right to think they're meant for me? Is it so, that a man that's lived in
my mother's house for years, eating at the same table with the family,
and having his clothes mended free, with supper to suit him and no
questions asked--is it so, that he reads me poetry, four lines at a
stretch, and a rhyme every other line, and then announces it isn't for
me!"
Her eyes flashed, her bosom palpitated, her hand made passionate
gestures, and she really seemed a young fury let loose. For a moment he
was deceived by her acting; he did not see the lurking grin in the depths
of her eyes.
Her voice shook with assumed passion. "Because I didn't show what I felt
all these years, and only exposed my real feelings when you read those
verses to me, do you think any man who was a gentleman wouldn't in the
circumstances say, 'These verses are for you, Kitty Tynan'? You betrayed
me into showing you what I felt, and then you tell me your verses are for
another girl!"
"Girl! Girl! Girl!" he burst out.
Pages:
89
90
91
92
93
94
95
96
97
98
99
100
101
102
103
104
105
106
107
108
109
110
111
112
113