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For some seconds she stood watching him. and both were thinking
very quickly. Her state of mind would have seemed altogether
discreditable to her grandmother. She ought to have been disposed
to faint and scream at all these happenings; she ought to have
maintained a front of outraged dignity to veil the sinking of her
heart. I would like to have to tell it so. But indeed that is
not at all a good description of her attitude. She was an
indignant queen, no doubt she was alarmed and disgusted within
limits; but she was highly excited, and there was something, some
low adventurous strain in her being, some element, subtle at
least if base, going about the rioting ways and crowded insurgent
meeting-places of her mind declaring that the whole affair was
after all--they are the only words that express it--a very great
lark indeed. At the bottom of her heart she was not a bit afraid
of Ramage. She had unaccountable gleams of sympathy with and
liking for him. And the grotesquest fact was that she did not so
much loathe, as experience with a quite critical condemnation
this strange sensation of being kissed. Never before had any
human being kissed her lips. . . .
It was only some hours after that these ambiguous elements
evaporated and vanished and loathing came, and she really began
to be thoroughly sick and ashamed of the whole disgraceful
quarrel and scuffle.
He, for his part, was trying to grasp the series of unexpected
reactions that had so wrecked their tete-a-tete. He had meant to
be master of his fate that evening and it had escaped him
altogether. It had, as it were, blown up at the concussion of
his first step. It dawned upon him that he had been abominably
used by Ann Veronica.
"Look here," he said, "I brought you here to make love to you."
"I didn't understand--your idea of making love. You had better
let me go again."
"Not yet," he said. "I do love you. I love you all the more for
the streak of sheer devil in you. . . . You are the most
beautiful, the most desirable thing I have ever met in this
world. It was good to kiss you, even at the price. But, by
Jove! you are fierce! You are like those Roman women who carry
stilettos in their hair."
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