There was always that violent hunger of the soul which
called her to him, and the only happy hours she had were those spent in
his company. Day after day she felt that complete ecstasy when he took
her in his huge arms, and kissed her with his heavy, sensual lips. But
the ecstasy was extraordinarily mingled with loathing, and her physical
attraction was allied with physical abhorrence.
Yet when he looked at her with those pale blue eyes, and threw into
his voice those troubling accents, she forgot everything. He spoke
of unhallowed things. Sometimes, as it were, he lifted a corner of the
veil, and she caught a glimpse of terrible secrets. She understood how
men had bartered their souls for infinite knowledge. She seemed to
stand upon a pinnacle of the temple, and spiritual kingdoms of darkness,
principalities of the unknown, were spread before her eyes to lure her
to destruction. But of Haddo himself she learned nothing. She did not
know if he loved her. She did not know if he had ever loved. He appeared
to stand apart from human kind.
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