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Aileen’s Last Card

           Idon’tmeantosaythatyouaren’tinterestinginyourwayasawomanandthatIdon’tsympathizewithyou.Ido.ButIdon’tloveyouanymore.Ican’t.ThethingIusedtofeelIcan’tfeelanymore."

           Shepausedforamoment,uncertainhowtotakethis,thewhileshewhitened,grewmoretense,morespiritualthanshehadbeeninmanyaday.Nowshefeltdesperate,angry,sick,butlikethescorpionthatringedbyfirecanturnonlyonitself.Whatahelllifewas,shetoldherself.Howitslippedawayandleftoneaging,horriblyalone!Lovewasnothing,faithnothingnothing,nothing!

           Afinelightofconviction,intensity,intentionlithereyeforthemoment."Verywell,then,"shesaid,coolly,tensely."IknowwhatI’lldo.I’llnotlivethisway.I’llnotlivebeyondto-night.Iwanttodie,anyhow,andIwill."

           Itwasbynomeansacry,thislast,butacalmstatement.Itshouldproveherlove.ToCowperwooditseemedunreal,bravado,amomentaryrageintendedtofrightenhim.Sheturnedandwalkedupthegrandstaircase,whichwasnearasplendidpieceofmarbleandbronzefifteenfeetwide,withmarblenereidsfornewel-posts,anddancingfiguresworkedintothestone.Shewentintoherroomquitecalmlyandtookupasteelpaper-cutterofdaggerdesignaknifewithahandleofbronzeandapointofgreatsharpness.

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