Always when she was alone her thoughts would return like homing birds to
John Benham; but this afternoon, though she spoke his name in her
reflections, she was conscious of an inner detachment from the vital
interests of her personal life. For a little while, so strong was the
mental impression Vetch had made on her, she saw his image even while
she thought the name of John Benham. Then, with an effort of will, she
put the Governor and all that he had said out of her mind. After all,
how little would she ever see of him now--how seldom would their paths
cross in the future! A strange and interesting man, a man who had, in
one instant of mental sympathy, stirred something within her heart that
no one, not even Kent Page, had ever awakened before. For that one
instant a ripple, nothing more, had moved on the face of the deep--of
the deep which was so ancient that it was older even than the blood of
her race. Then the ripple passed and the sunny stillness settled again
on her spirit.
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