"Go down alone," she said. "I can't."
III
She dragged herself upstairs, and locked herself in her room, stumbled to
the window, caught at it by the sill and leaned out. Her skin burned, her
blood beat at her temples, and her breath came panting from her. Her white
breasts ached with the burden of her strife. "I was born to live, not die.
Air! or I shall fall."
It was mellow dusk by now, the lamps below her lighted, and above the
chimneys and broken roof-line, above the trembling glare which meant
London, there were stars in a violet sky. The stars which looked on
London, looked also on the dim grass wolds, on hills rolling like waves,
on muffled woods, rivers swift under their banks, on cornlands stiff and
silent in the calm, on pastures and drowsy sheep. But the hills stretched
out on either side of a valley, fold upon fold, everlastingly the same.
There Despoina walked, at the deepest hour of the night. Even now she was
looked for by one who sat in the valley and watched the East--intent,
hooded, white, his chin upon his knees. A knock sounded at her door. She
turned and ran to open. "Her ladyship have sent to know if you would have
something sent up, miss.
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