and many's the one it
happens. _Pauvres vielles sotes!_ Poor old light women, Shane.... _Et
jadis fusmes si mignotes!_ ... Dainty as I am, they were once.... And do
you blame them now when see it coming ... the drink, the ether ... the
abominable things...."

"O my God! Claire-Anne!"

"Heart of hearts, Shane. I once escaped to light, where they escape to
oblivion.... Once I had you, and all my life I'll remember it.... All my
life I'll remember: I once knew a man.... And it will be a help, so much
a help...."

"Oh, Claire-Anne, it can't be!"

"It must be, dearest heart. It is--decreed. Darling, sometimes I
thought--Do you remember your showing me the poor prince's dagger, and
our talking about him--setting himself free--and I said I thought I
could understand why he did not.... I've wanted to, myself.... But....
There's a way you're brought up, when you're young.... They put such
fear of God in you ... such fear of hell ... you never could--throw
things down and go straight to Him, and say: 'I couldn't. I just simply
couldn't. I hadn't the strength. I couldn't ... just....' And they never
think of Him saying: 'Of course you couldn't.... And it was all My
fault. I wasn't looking.... I've so much to think of.... You did right
to come to Me....' But, no! no! One fears. They teach you so much fear,
Shane, when you are young ... so that even this is better--this--game,
where none win.... And so--one goes on...."

She rose suddenly and clutched his shoulders in panic. Her mouth twisted
in piteous agony....

"Oh, but dearest, dearest, _pauvres vielles sotes_, poor old light
women.... Shane, _assises bas, a crouppetons_, in an archway, hoping for
a drunken farmer with a couple of sous ... and so cold, so cold, with a
little fire of straw stalks ... _tost allumees, tost estaintes!_" ...

"No, Claire-Anne! no!"

"A drunken farmer, or traveling pedler.... _Et jadis fusmes si
mignotes_ ... and so dainty once!"

"No!" His voice took the ring of decision. She didn't hear him. Her
voice broke into a torrent of sobs.

"Take me in your arms, Shane, once more. And let my heart come into your
heart, where it's so warm ... and I'll have something to remember in the
days when it will be ... so cold, so cold ... and I'll be there warming
old bones.... _A petit feu de chenevotes_.... Shane, dearest,
please...."

He took her in his arms, and her body seemed to be some light envelope
in which a great turmoil of spirit beat, as a