He looked up and saw how bravely she held herself.
They came within a hundred yards of the bridge-head, and she drew rein. They could hear voices and the jangle of steel. He stood close to her, touching her, feeling the warmth of her, drinking in a faint elusive perfume which was her own. His brain reeled. He was sick and faint at the nearness of the end.
Suddenly she bent down and took his hand. He felt something clasp itself about his wrist.
"I can't give you up—not altogether—I can't, Tristram. I want to keep you in my life—the dream of you—to haunt you a little—to claim you a little—in this world and the next—for good and evil—my bracelet-brother——"
She was gone. He stood there, listening to the thud of her horse's hoofs.
BOOK II
CHAPTER I
MRS. COMPTON STANDS FIRM
"Among all the noble, disinterested, selfless things I've done—and my life is full of them—this is the noblest, most disinterested, most selfless."
Mrs. Compton stood back and surveyed the dainty Dresden figure perched on the shelf with the dignity of renunciation. Mrs. Bosanquet sniffed. It was an uncorrected habit of hers when confronted with the incomprehensible and absurd.