John eased off. She had resisted as long as she could; then she had stolen over. “I have brought you very nearly to my door. He was detained. If he died, here in this hotel, who would care? Or if she died, who would care? A queer desire blossomed in her heart: to go to him, urge him to see the folly of trying to forget. There must be ways of getting rid of him. It is useless to trace out her miserable career; though I can easily do so if you require it. I got to have you under guard in the gatehouse, I can see that. I wonder why on earth the curtains are drawn. Now the sense of beauty was spreading to a multitude of hitherto unsuspected aspects of the world about her. He would pursue that little pastime on some other occasion.
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