Chapter XXIII

More Books

More by this Author

"Poor Streff--poor me!" she thought as she sealed the letter.

After she had despatched it a sense of blankness descended on her. She had succeeded in driving from her mind all vain hesitations, doubts, returns upon herself: her healthy system naturally rejected them. But they left a queer emptiness in which her thoughts rattled about as thoughts might, she supposed, in the first moments after death--before one got used to it. To get used to being dead: that seemed to be her immediate business. And she felt such a novice at it--felt so horribly alive! How had those others learned to do without living? Nelson--well, he was still in the throes; and probably never would understand, or be able to communicate, the lesson when he had mastered it. But Grace Fulmer--she suddenly remembered that Grace was in Paris, and set forth to find her.