She had given up her child to be with him!
Everything, in fact--all her people at Yardley; her
dear old nurse. She had lied to Jane about chaperoning
Sue--all to come down and keep him from being
lonely. What she wanted was a certain confidence
in return. It made not the slightest difference to
her how many women he loved, or how many women
loved him; she didn't love him, and she never would;
but unless she was treated differently from a child
and like the woman that she was, she was going
straight back to Yardley, and then back to Paris,
etc., etc.
She knew, as she rushed on in a flood of abuse such
as only a woman can let loose when she is thoroughly
jealous and entirely angry, that she was destroying
the work of months of plotting, and that he would
be lost to her forever, but she was powerless to check
the torrent of her invective. Only when her breath
gave out did she stop.
Max had sat still through it all, his eyes expressing
first astonishment and then a certain snap of
admiration, as he saw the color rising and falling in
her cheeks. It was not the only time in his experience
that he had had to face similar outbursts. It
was the first time, however, that he had not felt like
striking back.
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