Something permanent to
live by! In the mute desperation of her look she appeared to be
searching the garden, the world, and the immense darkness of the sky,
for an answer. The afterglow had faded slowly into the blue dusk of
night; only a faint thread of gold still lingered beyond the cedars on
the western horizon. Something permanent and indestructible! Was this
what humanity had struggled for--had lived and fought and died
for--since man first came up out of the primeval jungle? Where could one
find unalterable peace if it were not high above the ebb and flow of
desire? She herself might break away from codes and customs; but she
could not break away from the strain of honour, of simple rectitude,
which was in her blood and had made her what she was.
"Yes, there ought to be something. There is something," she said slowly.
Though her hand still clasped Alice Rokeby's, she was gazing beyond her
across the terrace into the garden. She thought of many things while she
sat there, with that look of clairvoyance, of radiant vision, in her
eyes.
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