“Indeed,” she said, “I would not. But there was no feeling of remorse; there was only the sensation of exaltation. “I hate you because you are the Devil! Rot in Hell!” She was shocked at her own accusation, how she had savored the words. Ennison looked down on him in disgust. There was no marriage, and I hated, oh, how I hated the man. Yet even now there were so many things untouched, so much to be learned. It was the crowned queen of mountains in her robes of shining white. She walked for a mile or more recklessly, close veiled, with swift level footsteps, though her brain was in a whirl and a horrible faintness all the time hovered about her. Stanley almost liked Ramage.
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