Privately they would think they were wicked, damned, or some such
truck; and, sure enough, that alone would finish them."
"I haven't a speck of that," Savina admitted serenely; "I am happy. And
I don't even have to ignore the thought of your wife and children;
they'll get along just as well, maybe better, without you. William
doesn't need me; he hasn't for a number of years. But we had to have
each other."
Lee Randon considered this in relation to his feeling that he had not
left Eastlake, Fanny, because of Savina. He was still convinced that
his life had fallen apart of itself; but he began to see that Savina
had been more deeply involved in his act of liberty than he had
suspected. Without her it was probable that he would have continued to
the end in the negative existence of Eastlake; yet no amount of mere
assurance that that was the only admirable, the only permissible,
course was valid with him unless he had a corroborating belief. And all
that he might once have possessed had left him at the final blow dealt
by the passion of Savina and himself.
She had been stronger than the assembled forces of heredity and precept
and experience; her strength was superhuman; it was incredible that her
slender body could hold such an impulse, a fury really, of vitality.
Women must have been like that in earlier ages of humanity; but they
were no longer; their passion had been wasted, spent, or turned aside
into exhausting by-paths of sensation.
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