It is the knowledge of this lamentable
fact that undermines the feminine sense of honour.
Lastly, there was a calm acceptance of the fact that Guy Oscard must
and would inevitably go to the wall. There could be no comparison
between the two men. Millicent Chyne could scarcely hesitate for a
moment. That she herself must likewise suffer uncomplainingly,
inevitably, seemed to be an equally natural consequence in Jocelyn
Gordon's mind.
She could not go to Jack Meredith and say:
"This woman is deceiving you, but I love you, and my love is a
nobler, grander thing than hers. It is no passing fancy of a giddy,
dazzled girl, but the deep strong passion of a woman almost in the
middle of her life. It is a love so complete, so sufficing, that I
know I could make you forget this girl. I could so envelop you with
love, so watch over you and care for you, and tend you and
understand you, that you MUST be happy. I feel that I could make
you happier than any other woman in the world could make you."
Jocelyn Gordon could not do this; and all the advanced females in
the world, all the blue stockings and divided skirts, all the wild
women and those who pant for burdens other than children, will never
bring it to pass that women can say such things.
And precisely because she could not say this, Jocelyn felt hot and
sick at the very thought that Jack Meredith should learn aught of
Millicent Chyne from her.
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