CHAPTER X
"The hour which might have been, yet might not be.
Which man's and woman's heart conceived and bore.
Yet whereof life was barren, on what shore
Bides it the breaking of Time's weary sea?"
MARIE had only been back in London two days when she realized that, as far as Chris was concerned, she need expect nothing more than the casual affection which he had always bestowed upon her.
He was just the Chris she had always known—selfish and irresponsible and wholly charming.
Sometimes she despised herself because, no matter how indifferent he might be to her, her love in no way lessened. She felt that it would be much more for her happiness and much more sensible if she could grow as indifferent to him as he was to her.
Time after time she told herself that she would not care, that she would not let him hurt her, but it was useless. The first cold glance, the first small act of neglect, and the old wound ached afresh.