Page 647 - women-in-love

ghastly glamour, the unnatural feelings it makes everybody
have.’
He lay still and laughed, meditating.
‘Well,’ he said, ‘we can go away—we can go tomorrow.
We’ll go tomorrow to Verona, and find Romeo and Juliet,
and sit in the amphitheatre—shall we?’
Suddenly she hid her face against his shoulder with per-
plexity and shyness. He lay so untrammelled.
‘Yes,’ she said softly, filled with relief. She felt her soul
had new wings, now he was so uncaring. ‘I shall love to be
Romeo and Juliet,’ she said. ‘My love!’
‘Though a fearfully cold wind blows in Verona,’ he said,
‘from out of the Alps. We shall have the smell of the snow
in our noses.’
She sat up and looked at him.
‘Are you glad to go?’ she asked, troubled.
His eyes were inscrutable and laughing. She hid her face
against his neck, clinging close to him, pleading:
‘Don’t laugh at me—don’t laugh at me.’
‘Why how’s that?’ he laughed, putting his arms round
her.
‘Because I don’t want to be laughed at,’ she whispered.
He laughed more, as he kissed her delicate, finely per-
fumed hair.
‘Do you love me?’ she whispered, in wild seriousness.
‘Yes,’ he answered, laughing.
Suddenly she lifted her mouth to be kissed. Her lips were
taut and quivering and strenuous, his were soft, deep and
delicate. He waited a few moments in the kiss. Then a shade

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