She withdrew her hand from his, and got up. "It's nearly eight o'clock," she said quietly. "We must go up and dress now."
CHAPTER XII
"There's not a crime
But takes its proper change still out in crime
If once rung on the counter of this world."
All that night Athena lay awake. Her brain was extraordinarily alive. She had not had so bad a bout of wakefulness for years.
If only she were free!
She lay wondering what Lingard had meant by those words—words which she had put into his mouth, and which he had uttered in the thick tones of a man who has lost control of himself, and who speaks scarce knowing what he says.
In the world in which Mrs. Maule lived when she was not at Rede Place, it was a firmly-established belief that those unhappily or unsuitably married could, by making a determined effort, strike off their fetters. And in this connection it had been gradually borne in upon her that the good old proverb which declares that where there's a will there's a way is, in the England of to-day, peculiarly true of everything that pertains to the marital relations of men and women.
The question had never before touched her nearly, and Athena as a rule only concerned herself with what did touch her nearly.