"
Quite unconsciously his two hands, which still rested upon her
shoulders, began to lean heavily upon them, to press them, to grip
them till she suffered a physical discomfort that almost amounted to
pain.
"I shall seek a better way--I shall seek it. And the only thing I ask
you to-night is--that you will not forbid me to seek it."
The pressure of his hands upon her shoulders was becoming almost
unbearable. But she bore it. She bore it for she loved it. Perhaps
that night no words could have quite convinced her of his desperate
honesty of soul in that moment, perhaps no sound of his voice could
have quite convinced her. But the unconsciously cruel pressure of his
hands upon her convinced her absolutely. She felt as if it was his
soul--the truth of his soul--which was grasping her--which was closing
upon her. And she felt that only a thing that needed could grasp,
could close like that.
And even in the midst of her chaos of misery and doubt she felt, she
knew, that it was herself that was needed.
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