Count Paul's muttered farewell echoed in her ears, and the ornately
decorated gambling room seemed full of his presence.
She made a great effort to put any intimate thought of him away. The
next day, so she told herself, she would go back to England, to Market
Dalling. There she must forget that such a place as Lacville existed;
there she must banish Paul de Virieu from her heart and memory. Yes,
there was nothing now to keep her here, in this curious place, where she
had eaten, in more than one sense, of the bitter fruit of the tree of
knowledge.
With a deep, involuntary sigh, she rose from the table.
She looked at the green cloth, at the people standing round it, with an
odd feeling that neither the table nor the people round her were quite
real. Her heart and thoughts were far away, with the two men both of whom
loved her in their very different ways.
Then she turned with an unmirthful smile to her companions. It would not
be fair to let her private griefs sadden the kindly Wachners. It was
really good of them to have asked her to come back to supper at the
Chalet des Muguets.
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