But now--? Can there
be two men in one man as there can be two women in one woman? Suddenly
Fritz was new to her, newer to her than on the day when she first met
him. And he was complex. Fritz complex! She changed the word conceit. She
called it trust. And tears rushed into her eyes. There were tears in her
heart too. She looked up at her husband. The silk bandage over his
forehead had been white. Now it was faintly red. As she looked she
thought that the colour of the red deepened.
"Come here, Fritz," she said softly.
He moved nearer.
"Bend down!"
"Eh?"
"Bend down your head."
He bent down his huge form with a movement that had in it some
resemblance to the movement of a child. She put up her hand and touched
the bandage where it was red. She took her hand away. It was damp.
A moment later Fritz was sitting in a low chair by the wash-hand stand in
an obedient attitude, and a woman--was she siren or angel?--was bathing
an ugly wound.
CHAPTER XIV
AFTER that night Lady Holme began to do something she had never done
before--to idealise her husband. Hitherto she had loved him without
weaving pretty fancies round him, loved him crudely for his strength, his
animalism, his powerful egoism and imperturbable self-satisfaction. She
had loved him almost as a savage woman might love, though without her
sense of slavery. Now a change came over her. She thought of Fritz in a
different way, the new Fritz, the Fritz who was a believer in the angel.
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