And she had accepted
her knowledge of his connection with the Red movement, on his mere
promise to reform. But this other, this accident, and she had
turned from him with a horror that made him furious to remember.
These silly star-eyed virgins, who accepted careful abstractions
and then turned sick at life itself, a man was a fool to put himself
in their hands.
Mademoiselle was with Lily in her boudoir when Grayson came up, a
thin, tired-faced, suddenly old Mademoiselle, much given those days
to early masses, during which she prayed for eternal life for the
man who had ruined Lily's life, and that soon. To Mademoiselle
marriage was a final thing and divorce a wickedness against God
and His establishment on earth.
Lily, rather like Willy Cameron, was finding on her spirit at that
time a burden similar to his, of keeping up the morale of the
household.
Grayson came in and closed the door behind him. Anger and anxiety
were in his worn old face, and Lily got up quickly. "What is it,
Grayson?"
"I'm sorry, Miss Lily. He was in the vestibule behind Mrs. Denslow,
and I couldn't keep him out. I think he had waited for some one to
call, knowing I couldn't make a scene.
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