Clearly, clearly she saw it, and he must have seen her face, for he was staring straight at her.
It was the face, the one face above all others that she hated with every breath she drew and would hate until she ceased to draw breath.
For one awful moment she looked into Teleman's eyes and saw Teleman's lips move in pity.
Then she was falling. Down and down into a swirling abyss of emptiness, falling with the broken and burning machine ... falling, falling.
EPILOGUE
"The revolt can't be stopped now," Leguria said. "We shall have our new world and we shall all be a part of it."
She drew herself up, her eyes shining, and smiled at the man and woman who had just climbed down from a smoke-blackened flying machine, a machine which only an aerial engineer who had built bridges in the deep jungle would have known how to maneuver with skill in an hour of decision.
Dusk was falling and its purple glow, deflected downward from the shining glass of the machine's cockpit, aureoled Leguria's hair in a soft radiance.
"I may have seemed to you a strong-willed and determined woman," she said. "But I am not really like that at all. It is just that circumstances change people."