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Walpole, Hugh, Sir, 1884-1941

"The Captives"

It was always so; life was stronger than
he. He had tried, in this at least, to behave like a decent man. But
life did not want him to be decent . . .
And how he needed that rest that she gave him! As he felt her close
up against him, folded into him with that utterly naif and childish
trust that had allured and charmed him on the very first occasion,
he felt nothing but a sweet and blessed rest. He would not think of
the future. He would not . . . HE WOULD NOT. And perhaps all would
be well. As he pressed her closer to him, as he felt her lips
suddenly strike through the dark, find his check and then his mouth,
as he felt her soft confident hand find his and then close and fold
inside it like a flower, he wondered whether this once he might not
force things to be right. It was time he took things in hand. He
could. He must . . .
He began to whisper to her:
"Maggie darling . . . It mayn't be bad. I'll find out where this
other woman is and she shall divorce me. I'll arrange it all. And
we'll go away somewhere where I can work, and we won't allow anybody
to interfere. After all, I'm older now.


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