But her mind was ruffled, and its mirror-like surface of satisfaction was not easily restored. You must live for me. I want to hammer myself against all this that pens women in. And now she had sent Jack away. My poor Hoddy! I had to talk harshly, or break down and have hysterics. It was still too dark for reading, but she could see well enough to note the number of the last page—fifty-six. The immense disillusionment that awaited him! The devastating disillusionment! She had a vague desire to run after him, to state her case to him, to wring some understanding from him of what life was to her. Hawk and Buzzard VI.
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