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Zuleika Dobson; Or, An Oxford Love Story
·
Sir Max Beerbohm
215
The
girl
had
flung
the
ear-rings
at
his
face.
She
had
missed
her
mark.
But
this
did
not
extenuate
the
outrageous
gesture.
He
pointed
to
the
door.
“Go!”
he
said.
“Don’t
try
that
on!”
she
laughed.
“I
shan’t
go--not
unless
you
drag
me
out.
And
if
you
do
that,
I’ll
raise
the
house.
I’ll
have
in
the
neighbours.
I’ll
tell
them
all
what
you’ve
done,
and--”
But
defiance
melted
in
the
hot
shame
of
humiliation.
“Oh,
you
coward!”
she
gasped.
“You
coward!”
She
caught
her
apron
to
her
face
and,
swaying
against
the
wall,
sobbed
piteously.
Unaccustomed
to
love-affairs,
the
Duke
could
not
sail
lightly
over
a
flood
of
woman’s
tears.
He
was
filled
with
pity
for
the
poor
quivering
figure
against
the
wall.
How
should
he
soothe
her?
Mechanically
he
picked
up
the
two
pearls
from
the
carpet,
and
crossed
to
her
side.
He
touched
her
on
the
shoulder.
She
shuddered
away
from
him.
“Don’t,”
he
said
gently.
“Don’t
cry.
I
can’t
bear
it.
I
have
been
stupid
and
thoughtless.
What
did
you
say
your
name
was?
‘Katie,’
to
be
sure.
Well,
Katie,
I
want
to
beg
your
pardon.
I
expressed
myself
badly.
I
was
unhappy
and
lonely,
and
I
saw
in
you
a
means
of
comfort.
I
snatched
at
you,
Katie,
as
at
a
straw.
And
then,
I
suppose,
I
must
have
said
something
which
made
you
think
I
loved
you.
I
almost
wish
I
did.
I
don’t
wonder
you
threw
the
ear-rings
at
me.
I--I
almost
wish
they
had
hit
me...
You
see,
I
have
quite
forgiven
you.
Now
do
you
forgive
me.
You
will
not
refuse
now
to
wear
the
ear-rings.
I
gave
them
to
you
as
a
keepsake.
Wear
them
always
in
memory
of
me.
For
you
will
never
see
me
again.”
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