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And it seemed as though Kraill had never been except that in all the little things that used to be a joy she now could find no joy at all.
Twist was pathetically honoured that the "gentleman from England" should have chosen her birthday for his visit, and Marcella left him with her. "It's a pity to be Martha to-night, Professor Kraill," she said in a low voice. "I want to be Mary " She was gone before he could answer.
Oh yes," he went on, as she looked startled, "I've quite realized how selfish I always was to you. Well, don't you see how it worked? I thought Kraill had got you. You were my property. I just couldn't bear that. The only thing seemed to be to kill him." "I didn't think you loved me," she murmured. "I don't believe I did till Kraill gave me a few tips!
He said: 'Are you sure you can take care of her now, Louis? I laughed. It seemed such cool, calm impudence the way our positions were reversed. He laughed too, and said: 'Queer how we still look upon women as goods and chattels, isn't it?" "You didn't seem to take me into account much," she said. "Kraill answered for you in the surest possible way. And then we started to come back to you.
It was about two o'clock when he came home and, afraid that he should waken Kraill, she led him away from the house until he was quietened by her sudden turning on him and shaking him until he could not find his breath for awhile. That always sobered him; her kisses and caresses and forgiveness soothed him to sleep afterwards. The next morning Kraill said that he must go to Sydney.
He was indignant with Marcella for asking Kraill to stay in a hut, but he realized that it was only another evidence of what he called the "Lashcairn conceit" and that, if Marcella had thought it desirable to ask the Governor-General to tea, she would have done so unhesitatingly.
Kraill would tell you they were the caskets of questing cells seeking about for complementary cells that some day will themselves become the caskets of cells." "Ugh! That reminds me of all the clouds of flies on the dead fish in summer," she said, pushing her plate away. "Flies then maggots." "Exactly!" said the doctor, chuckling. "But " she began, and broke off, frowning.
It showed me that, though I am muddled now, there is such a thing as clearness in the world. It seemed to me that if I knew all the things Professor Kraill knows things might be like a crystal ball all the things in the world, you know, beautifully clear and rounded off. I read a lot of books to father after that and got muddled again. But I never lost the feel of Professor Kraill's book.
Professor Kraill's "Questing Cells" was there and she copied the prophecy into it, on the fly-leaf. "Talk about a battle-ground!" she said, smiling reflectively. "Professor Kraill and a gipsy!" She turned several pages, and once more got the feel of the book, though still much of it was Greek to her. Then she got down from the window seat, for her aunt was calling her to tea, and she was hungry.
One day when the doctor was sitting beside her and she had got out of a maze of pain into a buoyant sea of bodily unconsciousness, she talked to him about his letter in which he had grieved at his inadequacy. Then she told him about Louis, and about Kraill, for she thought it might encourage him to know how the miracle of healing had come about. "He wrote to me this morning, doctor," she said.
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