"Not that way," she said angrily, clutching his wrists with her
long, thin fingers; "you shan't kiss me in that way, James North."
With the faintest, ghost-like passing of a twinkle in the corners
of his sad eyes, he touched his lips to hers. With the contact,
she caught him round the neck, pressed her burning lips and face to
his forehead, his cheeks, the very curves of his chin and throat,
and--with a laugh was gone.
II
Had the kinsfolk of James North any hope that their visit might
revive some lingering desire he still combated to enter once more
the world they represented, that hope would have soon died.
Whatever effect this episode had upon the solitary,--and he had
become so self-indulgent of his sorrow, and so careless of all that
came between him and it, as to meet opposition with profound
indifference,--the only appreciable result was a greater attraction
for the solitude that protected him, and he grew even to love the
bleak shore and barren sands that had proved so inhospitable to
others. There was a new meaning to the roar of the surges, an
honest, loyal sturdiness in the unchanging persistency of the
uncouth and blustering trade-winds, and a mute fidelity in the
shining sands, treacherous to all but him.
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