The thought of you, wandering from pillar to post, believing yourself hunted—it tore my old heart to pieces! For I knew you. I shall still wear your favor—even if it is a stolen and forbidden favor—in my casque. The more she disentangled the lines of her situation the deeper grew her self-disgust. Wood had been my father, as well as yours. Because here was the haven for which she had been blindly groping: the positive abolition of all her father's rights in her—the right to drag her back. ‘Something wrong, madame?’ Her fan came up swiftly, hiding the lower part of her face. Every man in her life had betrayed her one way or another.
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