It could not be she who had done this. Rain pounded the tin roof, and waterfalls obscured the pavilion into its own private 91 chamber. Every now and then her general presence became radiantly dazzling in his eyes; she would appear in the street coming toward him, a surprise, so fine and smiling and welcoming was she, so expanded and illuminated and living, in contrast with his mere expectation. And I need not tell you that her hotel bill is running on the same as yours. “Oh God!” she cried, “Oh God!” and flung aside her opera-cloak, and for a time walked about the room—a Corsair’s bride at a crisis of emotion.
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