The sultry
heat seemed to weigh her down. Life was one vast oppression and bondage.
She was weary to the soul.
Juliet had gone down to aid Cox in the selection of something tempting
for her luncheon. She had every intention of refusing it whatever it was.
Who as miserable as she could bear to eat anything--unless forced to do
so by brutal compulsion?
Her head throbbed painfully. Her nerves were stretched for the sound of
her husband's step in the adjoining room. She wished she had told Juliet
to lock the communicating door, though she hardly expected him to come in
upon her a second time. Even his wrath had its limits. It seldom gathered
to its full height twice in a day.
She was trying to comfort herself with this reflection when suddenly she
heard him enter his room, and in a moment all her lassitude vanished in
so violent an agitation that she found herself gasping for breath. Still
she told herself that he would not come in. It had always been his habit
to leave her severely alone after a battle. He would not come in! Surely
he would not come in. And then the handle of the intervening door turned,
and she sank back in her chair with a sick effort to appear indifferent.
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