"
He held her still, looking at her with a growing compassion in his
eyes. "You are her child," he said.
She smiled. "Perhaps--spiritually. Yes, I think I am her child, such a
child as she might have been if--Fate--had been kind to her--- or if she
had read your book before--and not after."
He let her go slowly, almost with reluctance. "I think I should like to
meet your--Rosa Mundi," he said.
Her eyes suddenly shone. "Not really? You are in earnest? But--but---
you would hurt her. You despise her."
"I am sorry for her," he said, and there was a hint of doggedness in his
voice, as though he spoke against his better judgment.
The child's face had an eager look, but she seemed to be restraining
herself. "I ought to tell you one thing about her first," she said.
"Perhaps you will disapprove. I don't know. But it is because of
you--and your revelation--that she is doing it. Rosa Mundi is going to
be married. No, she is not giving up her career or anything--except her
freedom. Her old lover has come back to her. She is going to marry him
now. He wants her for his wife."
"Ah!" It was the man who was eager now. He spoke impulsively.
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