It was with no little sense of reluctance,
even though the anticipation of meeting any one never for the moment
entered her head, that she made her way slowly to the dining-room,
hoping every moment to hear his footsteps following her--giving her,
so it seemed, the right to her presence in so luxurious a place. No
wonder he loved it. And then, the thought struck at her, would it
be any wonder if he re-purchased, as he had said he had the right
to do? And if that were to happen--he was making his name now, and
it well might--would he bring her here to live with him? Would he
perhaps make her his wife? Or would they live, as they lived together
now? Or--and the thought drove blood that was cold and chilling
through her veins--would it be impossible for them to live so
publicly in such a way, and would he then live alone?
She tried to shake herself free of this mood of conjecture, took the
handle firmly within her fingers, opened the door, and walked into
the room.
The next moment her heart leapt, a live thing within her, then lay
still. Every action through her body seemed suspended. She scarcely
realized her physical existence at all. It was as though she were
conscious only of mind, mind that was filled with perplexity,
astonishment, consternation, a mind that was being buffeted by winds
from every quarter of the compass of sensation.
Pages:
308
309
310
311
312
313
314
315
316
317
318
319
320
321
322
323
324
325
326
327
328
329
330
331
332