The blast shrieked, as if exulting in its wrathful mission. It was warm, shielding, comforting, and what was more, full of understanding. "You are all right?"—anxiously. Paris looms behind—a tragedy of strange recollections—here she emerges Phœnix-like, subtly developed, a flawless woman, beautiful, self-reliant, witty, a woman with the strange gift of making all others beside her seem plain or vulgar. Somebody tricked you back yonder—baited you for spite. I may as well think. “I am very much obliged for the tea,” she said.
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