...
She felt as if she had escaped from a bottomless pit....Assuredly she had
the will and the character to make herself now into whatever she chose to
be...let Gora have him if she could find him and keep him....Better that
than hating herself for the rest of her life...love, far from being
ennobling, seemed to her the most demoralizing of the passions...there had
been something ennobling, expanding, soul-stirring in hating the brutal
mediaeval race that had devastated France...but in the reaction from her
fierce registered vow to snatch a man from a forlorn unhappy woman no
matter what her claims and have him for her own, she had shrunk from this
new revelation of her depths in horror....One could not live with that....
III
A man in khaki was walking quickly down the long crooked street. As he
approached she saw the red on his collar. He was a British officer. In
another moment she was shaking hands with Gathbroke,
She was far more composed than he, although she felt as if the world had
turned over, and there was a roar in her ears like the sound of distant
guns. She had a vague impression that the war had begun again.
"You are the last person I should have expected to meet here. There is no
British--"
"I came here to see you. I got your address from Madaine de Morsigny. I saw
her last night at a reception and recognized her. She was at that ball in
San Francisco.
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