She was beautiful, she was unique, and yet Lord Dorrington had to admit to himself that the love, or whatever emotion it was she had inspired in him for a short time, was no longer as vivid as it had been at first.
He could never bear his love affairs to peter away into boredom. Sometimes he felt that he was like a surgeon and must amputate a limb at the very first sign of decay.
Just for a moment he hesitated. Lady Cresswell’s unhappiness was very obvious. He knew her so well and he was sensitive to her every mood. He was aware that she was keeping an almost superhuman control upon herself.
He had only to take one step forward, hold out his arms and she would be close against his heart.
Her softness and warmth had meant so much to him.
He knew the intoxicating fragrance of the perfum
