No silence, no half-measures
could answer here. She knew that he was at the very door of her heart,
when it must either be slammed, bolted, locked in his face with a
lie or flung, with the truth, wide open for him to enter if he chose.
She hesitated, it is true; but it was not the hesitation of indecision.
When, only a few moments before, her senses have been giddily
balancing upon a precipice, saved from the hopeless downfall, only
because the man put out no hand to pull her over, a woman is not likely
to delay in doubt when at last he offers his hands, his eyes and his
voice to drag her into the ultimate abyss of ecstasy.
Sally delayed, only with the natural instinct of reserve. Eventually,
she knew she must tell him; if not in words, then by actions,
looks--even by silence itself.
"I never thought you meant that bet," she began in timid
procrastination.
"No--probably you didn't--but I did. And that's not the reason why
you're returning it now. Supposing we sponge out the debt and I tell
you to look upon it as a gift--would you keep it then?"
"No."
"Well--it's the wherefore of that I want to know. Why wouldn't you?"
"Because you have no right, no cause, to make me presents.
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