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Locke, William John, 1863-1930

"The Morals of Marcus Ordeyne : a Novel"

"
"There is going to be no murdering," said I, profoundly
disgusted, "and don't talk in that revolting way about the
wretched man dying."
I regained possession of Carlotta who, seeing that I was angry,
cast a scared glance at me, and became docile as suddenly as she
had grown passionate. I turned to Judith.
"Will you ever forgive me--" I began.
But the sight of her face froze me. It was white and hard and
haggard, and the lips were drawn into a thin line, and the
delicate colour she had put upon her cheeks stood out in ghastly
contrast. Her dress, like the foam of a summer sea, mocked the
winter in her face.
"There is nothing to forgive," she said, smiling icily. "I came
for a variety entertainment and I have not been disappointed.
Good-bye. Perhaps Mr. Pasquale will be so kind as to put me into
a cab."
"I will drive you home, if you will allow me," said Pasquale.
We separated, shaking hands as if nothing had happened, as
perfunctorily as if we had been the most distant of
acquaintances.
On our way back we spoke very little.


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