"
She was gone with the words, Adela's ringing laugh pursuing her as she
closed the door. She barely paused in the kitchen, but fled to her own
room. She could not--no, she could not--face the laughter and
congratulations that night.
She flung herself down upon her bed and lay there trembling like a
terrified creature caught in a trap. Her brain was a whirl of bewildering
emotions. She knew not which way to turn to escape the turmoil, or even
if she were glad or sorry for the step she had taken. She wondered if
Hill would tell Jack and Adela the moment her back was turned, and
dreaded to hear the sound of her sister-in-law's footsteps outside her
door.
But no one came, and after a time she grew calmer. After all, though in
the end she had made her decision somewhat suddenly, it had not been an
unconsidered one. Though she could not pretend to love Fletcher Hill, she
had a sincere respect for him. He was solid, and she knew that her future
would be safe in his hands. The past was past, and every day took her
farther from it. Yet very deep down in her soul there still lurked the
memory of that past. In the daytime she could put it from her, stifle
it, crowd it out with a multitude of tasks; but at night in her dreams
that memory would not always be denied. In her dreams the old vision
returned--tender, mocking, elusive--a sunburnt face with eyes of vivid
blue that looked into hers, smiling and confident with that confidence
that is only possible between spirits that are akin.
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