It would lead her downward and still further downward, she told herself.

But she caught solace from some blind belief that all women, through some vague operation of their affectional powers, could invade the darkest mires of life, if only it were done for love, and carry away no stain.

In fact, what would be a blemish in time would almost prove a thing of joy and pride.

And in the meantime she was glad enough to be as happy as she was, and to be near Durkin.

It was not the happiness she had once looked for, but it sufficed.
They caught sight of a corner of Corsica, and on the following night could see the glow of the iron-smelting fires on Elba, and the twinkle of the island shore-lights.