He looked at the dark
cloud of her hair that had ruled him so magically, and the memory of
old delights made him grip a great handful almost inadvertently as
he spoke. "Dear Leopard," he said, "we humans are the most streaky
of conceivable things. I thought I hated you. I do. I hate you
like poison. And also I do not hate you at all."
Then abruptly he was standing over her.
She rose to her knees.
"Stay here, old Cheetah!" she said. "This is your house. I am your
wife."
He went towards the unfastened front door.
"Cheetah!" she cried with a note of despair.
He halted at the door.
"Amanda, I will come to-morrow. I will come in the morning, in the
sober London daylight, and then we will settle things."
He stared at her, and to her amazement he smiled. He spoke as one
who remarks upon a quite unexpected fact. . . .
"Never in my life, Amanda, have I seen a human being that I wanted
so little to kill."
29
White found a fragment that might have been written within a week of
those last encounters of Benham and Amanda.
Pages:
439
440
441
442
443
444
445
446
447
448
449
450
451
452
453
454
455
456
457
458
459
460
461
462
463