CHAPTER IX

GREATER THAN DEATH


She came to life, weakly gasping. She opened her eyes upon him with the
old, unwavering adoration in their depths. And then before his burning
look hers sank. She hid her face against him with an inarticulate sound
more anguished than any weeping.

The savagery went out of his hold. He drew her to the _charpoy_ on which
she had spent so many evenings waiting for him, and made her sit down.

She did not cling to him any longer; she only covered her face so that
he should not see it, huddling herself together in a piteous heap, her
black, curly head bowed over her knees in an overwhelming agony of
humiliation.

Yet there was in the situation something that was curiously reminiscent
of that night when she had leapt from the burning stage into the safety
of his arms. Now, as then, she was utterly dependent upon the charity of
his soul.

He turned from her and poured brandy and water into a glass. He came
back and knelt beside her.