To-night we leave for Marseilles. “Your teeth are chattering! I’ll make you some hot chocolate!” Cathy cried. 266 She peered up at him. “Ruin me? Think of me with fondness? Are you dying of cancer or something?” He demanded. They were bathing in the stream. He yielded his place and struck instead with his tongue. His food lay untouched about his plate. Always as black and bitter as gall. She stood face to face with him, and his voice cut across her speech and made her stop abruptly. “In any case, I decline to see you alone.
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