But it seemed to her now
that she had returned his gifts with a niggardliness which must
have made her appear very small-minded. He had been great. He had
subordinated his wishes to her. He had been patient; ah yes,
perhaps too patient! Probably her utter dependence upon him had
made him so.
Slowly her thoughts passed on to the coming of Guy. She realized
that the rapid events that had succeeded his coming had rendered
her impressions of Burke a little blurred. Through all those first
stages of Guy's illness, she could scarcely recall him at all. Her
mind was full of the image of Kieff, subtle, cruel, almost
ghoulish, a man of deep cunning and incomprehensible motives. It
had suited his whim to save Guy. She had often wondered why. She
was certain that no impulse of affection had moved him or was
capable of moving him. No pity, no sympathy, had ever complicated
this man's aims or crippled his achievements. He had a clear,
substantial reason for everything that he did. It had pleased him
to bring Guy back to life, and so he had not scrupled as to the
means he had employed to do so. He had practically forced her into
a position which circumstances had combined to make her retain. He
had probably, she reflected now, urged Guy upon every opportunity
to play the traitor to his best friend. He had established over
him an influence which she felt that it would take her utmost
effort to overthrow.
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