She was horrified and fainted!
Then the vision, before her became more and more terrible and the entire contents of the Catalogue was unfolded before her. Dying soldiers defying vultures, mutilated Russians lying in an open grave, old men being blown from the guns! Wounds, and fire, and blood!
When she came to herself she hurried away. She thought it out.
“I must gradually accustom myself to less horrible things,” she whispered. “I will begin at once. If I were not to do this by degrees, I should go mad!” She called a hansom.
“Where to, Miss?”
“To the Marylebone Road,” cried the Spirit of Art—in these days the Spirit is a very self-assertive young person, and not at all like an unprotected female—“Baker Street Station, Marylebone Road.”
Then she threw away her Catalogue.
“I must see something less repulsive than this—I must gradually resume my normal condition. Something less repulsive! I have it! I will begin with the figures of Madame Tussaud’s—in the Chamber of Horrors!”