Then she smiled uncertainly, a wan, small smile.

It was very clear; what she had lost was all interest in life and all hope for the brave tomorrow.

Nothing remained of all those lovely dreams which she had built up by day and night about the figure of Pierre le Rouge.

He was gone, and the bright-colored bubble she had blown vanished at once.
She felt a slight pain at her forehead and then remembered the cross which Pierre had thrown into her face.

Casting that away he had thrown his faintest chance of victory with it; it would be a slaughter, not a battle, and red-handed McGurk would leave one more foe behind him.
But looking down she found the cross and picked up the shining bit of metal; it seemed as if she held the greater part of Pierre le Rouge in her hands.