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Wharton, Edith, 1862-1937

"Summer"

.. What's the
matter--why do you stand there staring at me? Haven't the days here been
good?" He went up to her and caught her to his breast. "And there'll be
others--lots of others... jollier... even jollier... won't there,
darling?"
He turned her head back, feeling for the curve of her throat below the
ear, and kissing here there, and on the hair and eyes and lips. She
clung to him desperately, and as he drew her to his knees on the couch
she felt as if they were being sucked down together into some bottomless
abyss.


XV

That night, as usual, they said good-bye at the wood's edge.
Harney was to leave the next morning early. He asked Charity to say
nothing of their plans till his return, and, strangely even to herself,
she was glad of the postponement. A leaden weight of shame hung on her,
benumbing every other sensation, and she bade him good-bye with hardly
a sign of emotion. His reiterated promises to return seemed almost
wounding. She had no doubt that he intended to come back; her doubts
were far deeper and less definable.


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