In her face now there was a look of annoyance, and possibly disgust, as
well as of triumph--so natural in cases of physical prowess. Everybody
offered congratulations, but she only showed real pleasure, and that
mutely, at those of Miss Treherne. To the rest of us she said: "One had
to save one's self, and Amshar was a coward."
And so this woman, whose hardness of heart and excessive cruelty
Hungerford and I were keeping from the world, was now made into a
heroine, around whom a halo of romance would settle whenever her name
should be mentioned. Now, men, eligible and ineligible, would increase
their homage. It seemed as if the stars had stopped in their courses to
give her special fortune.
That morning I had thought her appearance at this luncheon-party was
little less than scandalous, for she knew, if others did not, who Boyd
Madras was. After the occurrence with the Arab, the other event was
certainly much less prominent, and here, after many years, I can see that
the act was less in her than it would have been in others. For, behind
her outward hardness, there was a sort of justice working, an iron thing,
but still not unnatural in her.
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