A Woman's War. Warwick Deeping
regret nothing, dear?”
“Regret!”
“It is always in my mind—this curse. I am not a coward, Kate, but I go in deadly fear at times of my own flesh.”
“Always—this!”
“Would to God I could bear it all myself.”
“Come,” and she hung over him; “I understand, I am not afraid. You must rest; we will go away together to the cottage—a little honeymoon. You are not yourself as yet. Oh, my beloved, I want you here, here—at my heart!”
Darkness enveloped them, and she pillowed her husband’s head upon her shoulder. He heard her heart beating, heard the drawing of her breath. In a little while he fell asleep, but Catherine lay awake for many hours, her love hovering like some sacred flame of fire over the tired man at her side.
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