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Updated: May 19, 2025
Prudencia, alone, curled up in a far corner of her bed, the clothes over her head, was bemoaning many things incidental to matrimony. As she heard the sound of heavy steps she gave a little shriek. "It is I, Prudencia," said her uncle. "Where is Reinaldo?" "I do not know." "Did he not come from the ball-room with thee?" "N-o-o-o-o." "Dost thou know where he has gone?" "N-o-o-o, señor."
There were tears in her voice. He clasped her to him and felt her heart throbbing out its pain against its own, as he whispered, "Opal, am I a brute?" "N-o-o-o-o!" A pause. At last, "Let me go now, Paul! This is sheer insanity!" But he made no move to release her until she looked up into his eyes in an agony of appeal, and pleaded, "Please, Paul!" "Are you sure you want to go?"
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