She had thought before seeing Miss Lorenzi that she understood the
situation, and how it had come about. She had said to Stephen, "I
understand." Now, it seemed to her that she had boasted in a silly,
childish way. She had not understood. She had not begun to understand.
Suddenly the girl felt very old and experienced, and miserably wise in
the ways of the world. It was as if in some other incarnation she had
known women like this, and their influence over men: how, if they tried,
they could beguile chivalrous men into being sorry for them, and doing
almost anything which they wished to be done.
A little while ago Victoria had been thinking and speaking of Margot
Lorenzi as "poor girl," and urging Stephen to be true to her for his own
sake as well as hers. But now, in a moment, everything had changed. A
strange flash of soul-lightning had shown her the real Margot, unworthy
of Stephen at her best, crushing to his individuality and aspirations at
her worst. Victoria did not know what to think, what to do. In place of
the sad and lonely girl she had pictured, here stood a woman already
selfish and heartless, who might become cruel and terrible. No one had
ever looked at Victoria Ray as Miss Lorenzi was looking now, not even
Miluda, the Ouled Nail, who had stared her out of countenance, curiously
and maliciously at the same time.
"I have heard a great deal about Miss Ray in Algiers," Margot went on.
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