It grips hold
of you--grips hold very tight," he added in a lower tone.
"I wonder," she said, "whether there is anything in the world which
would tempt you to break away from it."
He struck the desk at which he was sitting, suddenly, with his clenched
fist. His face was still colourless, but his black eyes held a touch
of fire.
"Don't!" he said. "I am not such a slave, after all, as to love my
chains; but don't you understand that one gets into this morass, and one
can keep a foothold only by struggling."
"Is that how it is with you, Norris?" she asked.
"Yes!" he answered, with a sudden fierceness. "Six months ago I think
that I might have freed myself. I shouldn't have been a rich man, but
over there in Europe, where people have learned how to live, wealth
isn't in the least necessary. I had enough for Italy, for a season in
Paris, for a little sport in Hungary, even for a month or two at Melton.
I hesitated, and while I hesitated the thing closed in upon me again.
Then your father and I came up against one another once more, and I
began it all over again."
"Am I right," she asked softly, "in imagining that just now things are
going a little wrong?"
"I am fighting for my life," he said tersely.
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