“I never want to see it again,” was the thought in her heart. “I wish I never had seen it.”
She felt like a naughty child who has run away from home and is being ignominiously brought back.
Last night seemed like some fevered dream; Raymond Ashton some man of whom she had read in a book or seen in a play.
A phantom lover!––he had not even been that, and once she had wished to die because she had got to be separated from him.
Her eyes fell on her hand––she still wore his ring.
With sudden passion she dragged it from her finger; she let the window down with a run and flung the ring far out into the grey evening. It was the end of a dream; the final uprooting of an illusion.
CHAPTER XXXII
Esther slept through the long journey fitfully––she was mentally and physically exhausted. She was only thoroughly aroused by people out in the corridor moving about collecting bags and baggage.