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Hichens, Robert Smythe, 1864-1950

"Flames"


"You struck where my face was," she said doggedly. "You did, you did!"
"Nonsense!"
"It ain't! Why did you do it, then?"
A gleam of hope had shot into her eyes, lit by his weird attack upon
her mirrored image. After all, despite his sneers at her faded body, his
gibes at her faded and decaying soul, he struck at her as a man strikes
at the thing he fears. In that faded soul a wild hope and courage leaped
up, banishing all the sick despair which had preceded it. The lady of the
feathers faced Valentine with a deathless resolution of glance and of
attitude.
"You've been telling lies," she said "you've been telling me damned
lies!"
"What do you mean?"
"You said as I was--was done with."
A forced smile came like a hissing snake on Valentine's lips.
"So you are!"
"I ain't! I ain't! What's more, you know it!"
"You have broken yourself to pieces as I have broken that mirror!"
He spoke with an effort after scathing contempt, but she detected a
quiver of agitation in his voice.
"If I have, I'll break you yet!" she cried.
"Me? What are you talking about?"
"You know well enough."
"But do you know--do you know that I--I am Marr?"
He almost whispered the last words! A chill of awe fell over the lady of
the feathers.


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