Her pride was lifting its battered head, and although she
felt no remorse, and was without hope, and her unclouded
consciousness foreshadowed long years of spiritual torment and
longing with not a diversion to lighten the gloom, she possessed
herself more nearly that night than since Holt had given her what she
had believed to be her death blow.
If she could only die. But death was no friend of hers.
XXXVII
That afternoon Holt called on Dr. Talbot in his office. Half an hour
later, looking flushed and angry, he strolled frowning down Bush
street, then turned abruptly and walked in the direction of South
Park. He did not know Mrs. McLane but he believed she would see him.
He called at midnight--and on many succeeding nights--for Madeleine
and took her to several of the dives that seemed to afford her
amusement. He noticed that she drank little, and had a glimmering of
the truth. Newspaper men have several extra senses. It was also
apparent that the life she had led had not made her callous. As he
insisted upon "treating" her she would have none of champagne but
ordered ponies of brandy.
Now that she had a cavalier she was stared at more than formerly,
and there was some audible ribald comment which Holt did his best to
ignore; but as time wore on those bent on hilarity or stupor ceased
to notice two people uninterestingly sober.
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