She was sure he would fail in the end, and she wanted
him to fail; and somehow, somewhere back beyond herself, her better self
longed to find herself defeated; to see this mind stand firm on
principle, under circumstances where she believed men never stood. Deep
within her she discovered at times a passionate longing to believe in
somebody; yet she found herself bending every energy to pull this man
down to the level of time-servers, and even as she failed, feeling
something like contempt for his stubbornness.
The great day came. He had her notes, her suggestions, her hints, but
she had no intimation of what he would finally say.
"Will you come to hear me?" he asked.
"No," she murmured.
"That is best," he said, and then he added slowly, "I would not like you
ever to despise me."
She answered sharply: "I want to despise you!"
Did he understand? She was not sure. She was sorry she had said it; but
she meant it fiercely. Then he left her, for it was already four in the
afternoon and he spoke at eight.
In the morning she came down early, despite some dawdling over her
toilet. She brought the morning paper into the dining-room and sat down
with it, sipping her coffee. She leaned back and looked leisurely at the
headings. There was nothing on the front page but a divorce, a
revolution, and a new Trust.
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