There was only one answer in the whole world that would affirm the thoughts running through her head right now. And he'd just given it to her. No less than she deserved. Her heart, quite an active participant in this exchange, seemed to give its last as it sank like a stone and seemed to keep right on going.
I don't even know who you are, Penelope, but it shames me just the same.
She was going to be ill.
"You don't mean that," she pleaded, now shrinking away from him, panic-stricken. "You have to stop, Charles. I'm not good for you. You don't know me, not really."
What she avoided giving attention to at all costs were her feelings. Her head was too full of everything else in the world to let her come up with a clear and easy answer. Maybe if it were true, maybe if she said she was felt the same, she could wrap her arms around him, kiss out the terrible feelings that plagued her, lay it all to rest. But then where was her punishment? Because that was the easy way out, and someone like Charles didn't deserve someone poisonous like her in his life right now. He would be doing himself a favor, nipping this in the bud.
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