"We have been very mad," she continued, her old barbaric love of seeing
him suffer returning. Then in her own pain: "But from this moment on I
shall do my part, as you suggest. No doubt in a month's time we shall
both be laughing at our little tragic comedy."
He did not answer, but his brown face slowly changed colour and he
closed his eyes for a second.
"No doubt. As for me--there is no fool like an old fool, they say.
However, we have come to our senses in time--thank God!" The last two
words came with a sharp, spasmodic sound, and when he had said them he
took from his pocket the silver box, with Marie-Rose engraved on it, and
taking from it paper and tobacco, began to roll a cigarette.
Brigit was dumfounded as well as deeply hurt. His strength filled her
with terror. That he could bow to Fate, she had not expected, and
forgetting, as women do, that men's training from early boyhood teaches
them, as nothing ever teaches women, the trick of momentary
self-control, a wild doubt of his love flashed through her and took her
breath away.
"You are angry," she ventured, hoping, though subconsciously and without
cruelty, to break down his resolution. But he smiled sadly, for he was
sincere.
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