She looked down at her wet, dirt-stained dress, at her
worn, ragged shoes, at her cold, red hands, and shuddered. She had no
right there. Should she take advantage of his goodness to remain and
sully the beauty of his palace--for to her it seemed little less--by her
unworthy presence? No, woman-child as she was, she shrank from the
thought; then caught up her hat and arose, resolute.
"He will think me ungrateful," she murmured with half-closed eyes. "He
will think--no matter, he will forget me before half an hour. I will go
back to Johann and chance the beating. This is no place for one like
me."
With a little graceful gesture she bent over the mantel and pressed her
lips to the spot where Adrien had rested his arm; then with noiseless
steps she stole from the room.
The sun was breaking through the morning mist, but she shivered as its
warm rays touched her, and with a weary sigh turned towards Soho.
It was all over, the little patch of fairy-light in the dreary darkness
of her existence, and as she reminded herself of this fact she shuddered
again.
Looking back, she remembered but little beyond the days she had passed
with Johann and his shrewish wife.
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