Man-woman relationships -- Fiction; New York (N.Y.) -- Social life and customs -- 20th century -- Fiction; Young women -- Fiction
Dodo went, hurt, crushed and revolting. There had been nothing which the
other had not had a right to do, yet in those seconds she had
experienced the deepest humiliation a woman can receive from another,
the disdain of caste.
She had come penitent and full of compassion. She went in a dangerous
mood; this woman, perfectly correct, perfectly emotionless, perfectly
cold and brilliant, might be Mrs. Massingale; she could never be his
wife!
"No, that is not a marriage!" she said indignantly to herself.
The thing she dreaded, and hoped for, had come to pass. She forgave him,
and she understood!
Yet she hesitated day after day, until ten had passed in a whirl,
alternately resolved, alternately recoiling. She had no defined
morality. She was one of a thousand young girls of to-day, adrift,
neither good nor bad, quite unmoral--the good and the bad equally
responsive and the ultimate victory waiting on the first great influence
from without, which would master her. She had no home; she was alone, a
social mongrel. She could only hurt herself. What her parents had left
her was only a heritage of lawlessness. Yet she hesitated, frightened by
some fear conjured up from an unconscious self, like thin remembered
notes of village bells, across the tumult of worldly clamors. At last,
when she could see before her no other face, when the sound of his voice
was mingled with every sound that came to her ear, when nothing else
diverted her a moment from the insistent drumming ache of the present,
she yielded. She went in the afternoon, just before four, to the court
in Jefferson Market where she knew he was, pushing her way through the
miserable, the venal, the vermin of all nations, clustered and ill
smelling.
He saw her instantly as she came into the aisle.
CHAPTER XIX
Doré had not been mistaken in her swift perception on entering the court
room, heavy with weakness and discouragement. Judge Massingale saw her
with a feeling of profound relief. Whatever came now, the responsibility
lay on her head, not on his. Just how completely one memory had filled
his days he did not realize until he experienced a sudden excited calm
at the thought that she was there by his side, and that the long weeks
of struggle had been in vain.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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