I know how you feel--I felt sorry for him
myself--but he doesn't deserve it, you know." He stopped; not being
able, just at the moment, to think of anything more to say about Kelly.
Beatrice, who had not been thinking of Kelly at all, but remorsefully of
a fellow she had persisted in misjudging, only cried the harder.
"Don't--don't cry like that! I--Miss Lansell--Trix--darling!" Keith's
self-control snapped suddenly, like a rope when the strain becomes too
great. He caught her fiercely in his arms, and crushed her close against
him.
Beatrice stopped crying, and gasped.
"Trixie, if you must cry, I wish you'd cry for me. I'm about as
miserable a man--I want you so! God made you for me, and I'm starving
for the feel of your lips on mine." Then Keith, who was nothing if not
daring, once he was roused, bent and kissed her without waiting to see
if he might--and not only once, but several times.
Beatrice made a half-hearted attempt to get free of his arms, but Keith
was not a fool--he held her closer, and laughed from pure, primitive
joy.
"Mr. Cameron!" It was Beatrice's voice, but it had never been like that
before.
"I think you might call me Keith," he cut in. "You've got to begin some
time, and now is as good a time as any."
"You--you're taking a good deal for granted," she said, wriggling
unavailingly in his arms.
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