"No, my dear, I am not angry. I am sad, because I love you--as yet--far
more than I should, but--from this moment on I shall bend all my
strength to the conquering of that love. You must help me. You will know
how, for women always know. Now--will you shake hands with me and bid
God bless me? It is to be a hard struggle for me, but I will win, for my
will is strong, and the cause is good--Is that you, Theo?"
"Yes, father." Theo was trying the door. "Anything wrong?" he added.
Joyselle turned the key. "No," he said quietly as his son entered, "but
we were tired of the good company. I will go now, my dear. Stay and talk
to your _fiancee_."
CHAPTER NINE
An hour later Brigit slowly mounted the stairs at the inn. She was
desperately tired, and as unhappy as she was tired. Joyselle's attitude,
although she was bound in common justice to acknowledge its correctness,
hurt her to an almost incredible degree. Nothing had ever so wounded
her, and she felt the longing common to reserved people to hide her pain
from everybody.
So she had escaped from the Rue Victor Hugo under pretext of a headache,
and, bidding Felicite and Theo good-night, hastened back here, not
allowing the young man to accompany her, as he desired.
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