Was she ever likely to forget--to forget
that day when, for the first time, Eliot Coventry's grey, compelling eyes
had met and held her own? Since then she had touched heights and depths of
happiness and despair which had changed her whole outlook on life. Love had
come to her--and gone again, and only through sheer pluck and a pride that
refused to break had she been able to face the fact and hide her hurt from
the world at large.
Eliot's sudden disappearance from Silverquay last month had made things
a little easier for her. He had left home the day following that of the
dinner-party on board the _Sphinx_, and the knowledge that there was no
danger of meeting him had helped to lessen the strain, she was enduring.
Previously she had been strung up to a high nervous tension by the
ever-present fear of running across him unexpectedly, and it had brought
her infinite relief when she learned that he had gone away. Since then a
strange numbness seemed to have taken possession of her. It was as though
some one had closed the door on the past, very quietly and carefully.
Dully she recalled the night after Eliot had shown her he had no intention
of claiming her love as a succession of interminable hours of mental and
physical agony.
Pages:
272
273
274
275
276
277
278
279
280
281
282
283
284
285
286
287
288
289
290
291
292
293
294
295
296