Even I must
not intrude! I asked you about them because, oh, because, Enoch, you
are letting your only real weakness come between you and me."
Enoch had risen with Diana, and now he came around the fire and put his
hands on her shoulders. "No! No! Diana! not my weaknesses keep us
apart, bitterly as they mortify me."
Diana looked up at him steadily. "Enoch, your great weakness is not
gambling. Who cares whether you play cards or not? No one but Brown!
But your weakness is that you have let those early years and Luigi's
vicious stories warp your vision of the sweetest thing in life."
"Diana! I thought you understood. My mother--"
"Don't!" interrupted Diana, quickly. "Don't! I understand and because
I do, I tell you that you are warped. You are America's only real
statesman, the man with a vision great enough to mold ideals for the
nation. Still you are not normal, not sane, about yourself."
Enoch dropped his hands from her shoulders and stood staring at her
sadly.
"I thought you understood!" he whispered, brokenly.
Diana wrung her hands, turned and walked swiftly toward a neighboring
heap of rocks whose shadows swallowed her. Enoch breathed hard for a
moment, then followed. He found Diana, a vague heap on a great stone,
her face buried in her hands.
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