because I can't help it. I come because I can't stay away--I want to know
about you because I'm jealous of every man that ever looked at you."

With the last word he threw his arm about her and snatched her close.
Against him she suddenly relaxed, melted into a thing of yielding
softness, while his lips touched a cheek like a burning rose petal.

The next moment she was gone. He had a glimpse of her on the Vallejo
steps in swallow-swift silhouette and then heard the bang of the door.

In her room Pancha moved about mechanically, doing the accustomed things.
She lighted the light, took off her hat and jacket, brought the milk from
the window sill. Then, with the bottle on the table beside her, she sat
down, her hands in her lap, her eyes on space. She was as motionless as a
statue, save for the breaths that lifted her chest. She sat that way for
a long time, her only movements a shifting of her blank gaze or a
respiration deeper than the others. She saw nothing of what her glance
rested on, heard none of the decreasing midnight sounds in the street or
the house about her. An intensity of feeling had lifted her to a plane
where the familiar and habitual had no more place than had premonitions
and forebodings.




CHAPTER XIII

FOOLS IN THEIR FOLLY