Like everything else in her utilitarian equipment, fine
perceptions were only assumed when the magnitude of the goal in view
demanded their presence. And even then they merely went as far as
sentinels to warn or encourage her in the progress of her aims, never
wasting themselves upon irrelevant objects.
When her scented presence had left the room, John Derringham clasped his
hands behind his head, and, before he was aware of it, his lips had
murmured "Thank God!"
And then Nemesis fell upon him--his schoolboy sensation of
recreation-time at hand left him, and a blank sense of failure and
hopeless bondage took its place.
Surely he had bartered his soul for a very inadequate mess of pottage.
And where would he sink to under this scorpion whip? Where would go all
his fine aspirations which, even in spite of all the juggling of
political life, still lived in his aims. Halcyone would have understood.
"Oh! my love!" he cried. "My tender love!"
Then that part of him which was strong reasserted itself. He would not
give way to this repining, the thing was done and he must make the best
of it.
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