So, after a moment, she said, as she drew a
glove from a hand slightly trembling: "And you honestly think it is the
case: that one having lived such a life as you describe so unusually,
would never be satisfied with a simple life?"
"My dear, never--not such a man as I describe. I know the world."
"But suppose not quite such an one; suppose one that had not been
so--intense; so much the social gladiator; who had business of life as
well,"--here the girl grew pale, for this was a kind of talk unfamiliar
and painful to her, but to be endured for her cause,--"as well as 'the
flesh-pots of Egypt;' who had made no wicked mistakes--would he
necessarily end as you say?"
"I am speaking of the kind of man who had made such mistakes, and he
would end as I say. Few men, if any, would leave the world for--the
bandbox, shall I still say? without having a Nemesis."
"But the Nemesis need not, as you say yourself, be inevitable. The person
who holds the key of his life, the impersonation of his mistake--"
"His CRIMINAL mistake," Mrs. Falchion interrupted, her hand with the
ivory knife now moveless in that belt of sunlight across her knees.
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