. . .
Even now I am drifting further into lies and the last shreds of
dignity drop from me; a dirty, lost, and shameful leopard I am now,
who was once clean and bright. . . . You could come back, Cheetah,
and you could save me yet. If you would love me. . . ."
In certain moods she could wring his heart by such imagined
speeches, the very quality of her voice was in them, a softness that
his ear had loved, and not only could she distress him, but when
Benham was in this heartache mood, when once she had set him going,
then his little mother also would rise against him, touchingly
indignant, with her blue eyes bright with tears; and his frowsty
father would back towards him and sit down complaining that he was
neglected, and even little Mrs. Skelmersdale would reappear, bravely
tearful on her chair looking after him as he slunk away from her
through Kensington Gardens; indeed every personal link he had ever
had to life could in certain moods pull him back through the door of
self-reproach Amanda opened and set him aching and accusing himself
of harshness and self-concentration.
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