He
was conscious of her force as he had never been conscious of it
before. Something within him almost abdicated to her intensity. And at
last he turned and went softly away from the terrace. He descended to
the sea. He left the island.
Were they no longer friends?
As the boat gave itself to the mist he wondered. It had come to this,
then--that he did not know whether Hermione and he were any longer
friends. Almost imperceptibly, with movement so minute that it had
seemed like immobility, they had been drifting apart through these
days and nights of the summer. And now abruptly the gulf appeared
between them.
He felt just then that they could never more be friends, that their
old happy camaraderie could never be reestablished.
That they could ever be enemies was unthinkable. Even in Hermione's
bitterness and anger Artois felt her deep affection. In her cry, "Take
care, Emile, or I shall hate you for keeping me in the dark!" he heard
only the hatred that is the other side of love.
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