CHAPTER X.THE CONFLICT OF THE NIGHT.
Her brain was a steam-wheel throughout the night; everything that could be thought of was tossed, nothing grasped.
The unfriendliness of the friends who sought to retain her recurred.

For look--to fly could not be interpreted as a flight.

It was but a stepping aside, a disdain of defending herself, and a wrapping herself in her dignity.

Women would be with her.

She called on the noblest of them to justify the course she chose, and they did, in an almost audible murmur.
And O the rich reward.