The Kiss: Love Stories from North America. Jennifer Bassett

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      It was still light out of doors, but inside with the curtains closed and with only a little light from the fire, the room was full of shadows.

      Brantain sat in one of those shadows; the shadow had moved over him and he did not mind. The darkness made him feel brave enough to stare for as long as he liked at the girl who sat in the firelight.

      She was very good-looking, with that fine, rich coloring often found in women with dark brown hair and brown eyes. She sat calmly, with her hands resting on the cat that lay sleeping on her knees. From time to time she sent a slow look into the shadow where the man sat. They were talking of unimportant things, which were clearly not the things they were thinking about. She knew that he loved her – a simple, honest man, not clever enough to hide his feelings, and with no wish to do so.

      For the past two weeks, at every tea party and every dinner party, he had been always at her side. She was sure he would soon ask her to marry him, and she meant to accept him. Brantain was dull and not at all good-looking, but he was extraordinarily rich; and she liked and wanted the kind of life that a rich husband could give her.

      During one of the pauses in their conversation about the last tea party and the next dinner party, the door opened and a young man entered. Brantain knew him well. The girl turned her face toward him, but did not realize that he had not seen Brantain. In three steps he was next to her chair, and bending over her – before she had any idea what he planned to do – he gave her a long, slow, burning kiss upon her lips.