"That's true enough. But I doubt if there are any men more susceptible to beauty, or quite as lustful after it, no matter how romantic they may think they are feeling. I've talked to a good many of them in the past four years, and for six months I was in charge of a convalescent hospital in Kent. I think I've pretty thoroughly plumbed the Englishman. They found me sympathetic all right, forgot their racial shyness and inadvertently gave me much valuable material. But I saw no indication that I made any sex appeal to them whatever."
"Not one? Not ever?"
Gora gave a slight withdrawing movement as if something sacred had been touched. But she answered: "Oh … some day I may have something to tell you…. You said much the same thing to me a little while ago. Tell me now."
Alexina turned over on her elbow to beat up her pillows. Then she answered lightly but firmly: "Not unless you promise to do likewise. Mine is such a little thing anyhow. I know by the expression of your face—just now—that, yours is the real thing. Is he in Paris?"
"I'm … not sure…. Yes, there is something … the conditions are very peculiar … not at all what you think … there is so much more to it…. No, I don't think I can tell you."
A fortnight ago Alexina could have lifted her eyes and uttered Gathbroke's name as if groping through a jungle of memories. But she could no more force his name through her lips now than she could have laid bare all that was in her tumultuous soul. It was, in fact, all she could do to keep from screaming. For a moment her excitement was so intense that she jumped from the bed and ran over and opened the window.
"This room gets intolerably stuffy. That is the worst of it—freeze or stifle."
"Oh, I have been cold so long! Please don't leave it open. That's a darling."
V
Alexina closed it with an amiable smile. "What would you do, Gora, if you were really mad about a man? Have him at any cost? Annihilate anything that stood in your way? Anybody, I mean."