"
"Maggie?"
"Yes," answered Paul. For the first time since he had entered the room
his eyes were averted from Etta's face.
"She would not live with me," said the princess curtly.
Paul seemed to be reflecting. When he next spoke it was in a kinder
voice.
"You need not tell the circumstances which have given rise to this
arrangement."
Etta shrugged her shoulders.
"That," went on Paul, "rests entirely with yourself. You may be sure
that I will tell no one. I am not likely to discuss it with any one
whomsoever."
Etta's stony eyes softened for a moment. She seemed to be alternating
between hatred of this man and love of him--a dangerous state for any
woman. It is possible that, if he had held his hand out to her, she
would have been at his feet in a wild, incoherent passion of self-hatred
and abasement. Such moments as these turn our lives and determine them.
Paul knew nothing of the issue hanging on this moment, on the passing
softness of her eyes. He knew nothing of the danger in which this woman
stood, of the temptation with which she was wrestling. He went on in his
blindness, went on being only just.
"If," he said, "you have any further questions to ask, I shall always be
at your service. For the next few days I shall be busy. The peasants are
in a state of discontent verging on rebellion.
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