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"Will you come?" he asked.
They went back to the house, hand in hand, in silence. The chickens came
scampering down the path to her. He locked the door, and they had the
little house to themselves.
He never forgot seeing her as she lay on the bed, when he was
unfastening his collar. First he saw only her beauty, and was blind
with it. She had the most beautiful body he had ever imagined. He stood
unable to move or speak, looking at her, his face half-smiling with
wonder. And then he wanted her, but as he went forward to her, her hands
lifted in a little pleading movement, and he looked at her face, and
stopped. Her big brown eyes were watching him, still and resigned and
loving; she lay as if she had given herself up to sacrifice: there was
her body for him; but the look at the back of her eyes, like a creature
awaiting immolation, arrested him, and all his blood fell back.
"You are sure you want me?" he asked, as if a cold shadow had come over
him.
"Yes, quite sure."
She was very quiet, very calm.


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