She was as lonely a creature as ever the world knew; violence was no part of her equipment; and yet terrible memories made her assent to this new phase of Carnac's life.

She wondered what Barouche would think.

There was some ancient touch of war in her which made her rejoice that after long years the hammer should strike.
Somehow the thing's tremendous possibilities thrilled her.

Carnac had always been a politician--always.

She remembered how, when he was a boy, he had argued with John Grier on national matters, laid down the law with the assurance of an undergraduate, and invented theories impossible of public acceptance.