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Hichens, Robert Smythe, 1864-1950

"The Garden of Allah"

I had seen you suffer and I had not dared to draw near
to your suffering. I have been afraid of you. Think of that."
"No."
"Yes, I have been afraid of you, of your reserve. When you withdrew from
me I never followed you. If I had, perhaps I could have done something
for you."
"Domini, do not speak like this. Our love is happy. Leave it as it is."
"I can't. I will not. Boris, Count Anteoni has found a home. But you
are wandering. I can't bear that, I can't bear it. It is as if I were
sitting in the house, warm, safe, and you were out in the storm. It
tortures me. It almost makes me hate my own safety."
Androvsky shivered. He took his hand forcibly from Domini's.
"I have almost hated it, too," he said passionately. "I have hated it.
I'm a--I'm--"
His voice failed. He bent forward and took Domini's face between his
hands.
"And yet there are times when I can bless what I have hated. I do bless
it now. I--I love your safety. You--at least you are safe."
"You must share it. I will make you share it."
"You cannot."
"I can. I shall. I feel that we shall be together in soul, and perhaps
to-night, perhaps even to-night.


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