up her gown. Her thighs had a flush upon them. The curls of hair between her legs were dark. Upon her breast there was a crimson bruise, from where I had kissed too hard.
I covered it up. She might have stopped me. She might have put her hands upon mine. She was the mistress, after all! But, she did nothing. I made her go with me to the silvery looking-glass above her fire, and she stood with her eyes cast down while I combed and pinned her hair. If she felt the trembling of my fingers against her face, she didn''t say. Only when I had almost finished did she lift her head and catch my gaze. And then she blinked, and seemed to search for words. She said,
''What a thick sleep I had. Didn''t I?''
''You did,'' I said. My voice was shaking. ''No dreams.''
''No dreams,'' she said, ''save one. But that was a sweet one. I think— I think you were in it, Sue
She kept her eyes on mine, as if waiting. I saw the blood beat in her throat. Mine beat to match it, my very heart turned in my
breast; and I think, that if I had drawn her to me then, she''d have kissed me. If I had said, 1 love you, she would have said it back; and everything would have changed. I might have saved her. I might have found a way—I don''t know what—to keep her from her fate. We might have cheated Gentleman. I might have run with her, to Lant Street—
But if I did that, she''d find me out for the villain I was. I thought of telling her the truth; and trembled harder. I couldn''t do it. She was too simple. She was too good. If there had only been some stain upon her, some speck of badness in her heart—! But there was nothing. Only that crimson bruise. A single kiss had made it. How would she do, in the Borough?