' A heavy, overcharged desire to bring about
her death possessed him. She was unaware.
'Hasn't it?' she asked. 'Do you think it has been a success?'
Again the insult of the flippant question ran through his blood like a
current of fire.
'It had some of the elements of success, our relationship,' he replied.
'It--might have come off.'
But he paused before concluding the last phrase. Even as he began the
sentence, he did not believe in what he was going to say. He knew it
never could have been a success.
'No,' she replied. 'You cannot love.'
'And you?' he asked.
Her wide, dark-filled eyes were fixed on him, like two moons of
darkness.
'I couldn't love YOU,' she said, with stark cold truth.
A blinding flash went over his brain, his body jolted. His heart had
burst into flame. His consciousness was gone into his wrists, into his
hands. He was one blind, incontinent desire, to kill her. His wrists
were bursting, there would be no satisfaction till his hands had closed
on her.
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