"
"Oh, bosh!" Linda exclaimed, as she drew on her gloves. "That's sheer
nonsense. You're going to be my big sister in three months. Things will
work out. If you felt you had to take this step for your own good, no
one can blame you. It needn't make any difference in our friendship."
On the threshold she turned on her heel. "Don't forget what I've said,"
she repeated. "Don't trust Monohan. Not an inch."
Stella flung herself angrily into a chair when the door closed on Linda
Abbey. Her eyes snapped. She resented being warned and cautioned, as if
she were some moral weakling who could not be trusted to make the most
obvious distinctions. Particularly did she resent having Monohan flung
in her teeth, when she was in a way to forget him, to thrust the strange
charm of the man forever out of her thoughts. Why, she asked bitterly,
couldn't other people do as Jack Fyfe had done: cut the Gordian knot at
one stroke and let it rest at that?
So Monohan was in Seattle? Would he try to see her?
Stella had not minced matters with herself when she left Roaring Lake.
Dazed and shaken by suffering, nevertheless she knew that she would not
always suffer, that in time she would get back to that normal state in
which the human ego diligently pursues happiness. In time the legal tie
between herself and Jack Fyfe would cease to exist. If Monohan cared for
her as she thought he cared, a year or two more or less mattered little.
They had all their lives before them. In the long run, the errors and
mistakes of that upheaval would grow dim, be as nothing.
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