He had seen in her an instrument to be handled at will,
and had charged himself with the burden of her destiny, and now he
supposed she was about to reproach him.
"You are hysterical. That's the worst of women. They always are--more
or less. You had better go to bed, and not talk nonsense. If you were
a child only a few months ago you are not too old to be treated as one
now."
It hurt him more than it hurt her, but she would never know that. His
pulses hammered furiously as she dropped at his side with a soft rustle
of garments. Her clasped hands rested on his knee; the strong, slender
hands that had grown rough with work.
"Emile," she whispered, "can't you see that I've altered? I'm a woman
now. You said I should be one soon. I've wanted to tell you all
along, but I always hoped you had guessed."
"Perhaps I did, but I preferred that you should tell me yourself. And
since when have you become what you call 'a woman'? No, you needn't
answer. When I knew that you and Vardri had been together in my rooms,
I was certain I had not warned you without reason.
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