He must be young, little one, a youth of twenty;
not one like me, nearer the mark of another decade. It would not be
fitting. Youth to youth, and those of a riper age to each other." He
was thinking of a tall form, full and round with womanhood, whose eyes
held knowledge of the earth, and yet, had he been able to define their
charm, were younger even than Francette's.
The little maid had ceased her weeping long since and the face on
McElroy's shoulder, turned out toward the night, was drawn and hard.
The black eyes were no longer starry with passion, but glittering with
failure. And the man, stupid and good of heart as are all men of his
type, congratulated himself that he had talked the nonsense out of her
little head.
Suddenly he felt the slender figure shiver in his arms and the curly
head brushed his cheek as she raised her face.
"Aye, M'sieu," she whispered, "it is as you say, but only one thing
remains. Kiss me, M'sieu, and I go to--forget."
The factor hesitated.
He felt again his one passionate avowal on the lips of his one woman.
This was against the grain.
"Please, M'sieu," begged the childish voice, with a world of coaxing;
and, thinking to finish his gentle cure, he bent his head and kissed
her lightly on the cheek.
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