“And then, when I was left alone in the world, what happened? I went abroad as a Red Cross nurse. I tried my best to help in the war. I took care of the wounded—under fire. I bore every hardship. I said my prayers. And God put a curse upon me—yes He did. He took all chance of happiness and health and love away from me. He made me do things that I never meant to do, that I don't remember doing.”
Her cheeks were burning scarlet, her eyes shone like black stars. I tried to stop her. “My darling, you are ill!”
“Ill? Who made me ill? God made me ill, didn't He? That's my reward, isn't it? That's what has come of all my love and faith. If that's what God does, you can have Him. I don't want Him. I'll go with Roberta. I'll do as Roberta does—yes, I will.” She almost screamed the words.
How I prayed then for wisdom!
“No—no!” I said slowly but firmly. “You will not go with Roberta. You will go with me.”
“I must say I like your impertinence,” Roberta put in, her face white, her voice trembling with fury. “This happens to be my apartment, Mrs. Seraphine Walters, and now you can get damned well out of it.”
I saw that I could no nothing more, for Penelope's eyes were hard set against me. They both wanted me to go.
“Good night. God bless you, dear,” I said.
“Don't you worry about God's blessing us. You can tell Him the next time you make your report that there is a young woman named Roberta Vallis living at the Hotel des Artistes who is getting along quite well, thank you, without—”
“Don't say it, please don't say it,” I begged. “You have no idea what dangers are threatening, what evil powers are about us—even now—here.”