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of something in him。 And at length he was glad to forfeit
from his soul all his symbols; to have her making love to him。
He loved it when she put her head on his knee; and he had not
asked her to or wanted her to; he loved her when she put her
arms round him and made bold love to him; and he did not make
love to her。 He felt a strong blood in his limbs again。
And she loved the intent; far look of his eyes when they
rested on her: intent; yet far; not near; not with her。 And she
wanted to bring them near。 She wanted his eyes to e to hers;
to know her。 And they would not。 They remained intent; and far;
and proud; like a hawk's naive and inhuman as a hawk's。 So she
loved him and caressed him and roused him like a hawk; till he
was keen and instant; but without tenderness。 He came to her
fierce and hard; like a hawk striking and taking her。 He was no
mystic any more; she was his aim and object; his prey。 And she
was carried off; and he was satisfied; or satiated at last。
Then immediately she began to retaliate on him。 She too was a
hawk。 If she imitated the pathetic plover running plaintive to
him; that was part of the game。 When he; satisfied; moved with a
proud; insolent slouch of the body and a half…contemptuous drop
of the head; unaware of her; ignoring her very existence; after
taking his fill of her and getting his satisfaction of her; her
soul roused; its pinions became like steel; and she struck at
him。 When he sat on his perch glancing sharply round with
solitary pride; pride eminent and fierce; she dashed at him and
threw him from his station savagely; she goaded him from his
keen dign