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Maugham, W. Somerset (William Somerset), 1874-1965

"The Magician"

Arthur's lips twitched, and his gaunt face
grew pale with passion. His emotion was so great that it was nearly pain.
He was puzzled, for her eyes expressed things that he had never seen in
them before.
'Why don't you kiss me?' she said.
She did not see Susie, but knew that a quick look of anguish crossed her
face. Margaret drew Arthur towards her. His hands began to tremble. He
had never ventured to express the passion that consumed him, and when he
kissed her it was with a restraint that was almost brotherly. Now their
lips met. Forgetting that anyone else was in the room, he flung his arms
around Margaret. She had never kissed him in that way before, and the
rapture was intolerable. Her lips were like living fire. He could not
take his own away. He forgot everything. All his strength, all his
self-control, deserted him. It crossed his mind that at this moment he
would willingly die. But the delight of it was so great that he could
scarcely withhold a cry of agony. At length Susie's voice reminded him
of the world.
'You'd far better go out to dinner instead of behaving like a pair of
complete idiots.


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