When he had left the room, Marian sat down again by the fire, her face lit up by a smile of complete satisfaction.
She was not trembling on the brink of revolt. When she had met him that foggy afternoon she had been so, but only because she felt helpless. Now succor had come. She felt certain that she could win Maddison to her will, that she would be able to use him as the stepping-stone to the luxury and power for which she lusted. He had almost loved her in the old days, he nearly loved her now after these two brief meetings; at any rate he was sorry for her. She would tempt him and he would fall.
Again she looked at herself in the mirror; she was made to conquer. This man, and others, should be hers. She held the two most powerful of weapons, beauty and heartlessness, and would use both without scruple.
She laughed as she thought of her upbringing in the little country village, of her ever having believed that she could live content as a curate’s wife. Whence came this unruliness in her blood? She could understand the discontent with the physical conditions of her life, but her desires went far beyond that. It was not merely for love and luxury that she longed, but for power—power over the body and mind of men of power.
Maddison would not satisfy all her cravings; but he could take her away out into the world, and there she knew she could win.
She had in her the confidence of a conqueror.
CHAPTER III
On Thursday morning Maddison waited impatiently for Marian, though he never for a moment doubted but that she would come.