He had always faced things down, as long as it could be done; and when it
could not, he had retreated, with the comment that no man was wise who
took gruel when he needn't. He was now face to face with his greatest
problem. One thing was clear--they must either part for ever, or go
together, and part no more. There could be no half measures. She was
a remarkable woman in her way, with a will of her own, and a kind of
madness in her; and there could be no backing and filling. They only
had three minutes to talk together alone, and two of them were up.
Her arms were held out to him, but he stood still, and before the fire of
her eyes his own eyes dropped. "No, not yet!" he exclaimed. "It's been
a day--heaven and hell, what a day it's been! He had me like that!" He
opened and shut his hand with fierce, spasmodic strength. "And he let me
go--oh, let me go like a fox out of a trap! I've had enough for one day
--blood of St. Peter, enough, enough!"
The flame of desire in her eyes suddenly turned to fury. "It is
farewell, then, that you wish," she said hoarsely. "It is no more and
farewell then? You said it to him"--she pointed to the other room--"you
said it to Jean Jacques, and you say it to me--to me that's given you all
I have.
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