And was she not an
independent woman, earning her own living? Who on earth had the right
to dictate to her? She was not a slave. Even a servant had an evening
out once a week. She was sinless....
And yet while she was thus ardently defending herself she knew well
that she had sinned against the supreme social law--the law of "the
look of things." It was true that chance had worked against her. But
common sense would have rendered chance powerless by giving it no
opportunity to be malevolent. She was furious with Rachel Fleckring.
That Rachel Fleckring, of all mortal girls, should have exposed
herself to so dreadful, so unforgettable a humiliation was mortifying
in the very highest degree. Her lips trembled. She was about to burst
into a sob. But at this moment the rattle of the revolving machine
behind the hole ceased, the theatre blazed from end to end with sudden
light, the music resumed, and a number of variegated advertisements
were weakly thrown on the screen. She set herself doggedly to walk
back down the slope of the aisle, not daring to look ahead for Louis.
She felt that every eye was fixed on her with base curiosity.... When,
after the endless ordeal of the aisle, she reached her place, Louis
was not there.
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