She had
been seduced. Well, what of that? She had had an intrigue. Very good.
It was at her own wish. People would despise and humiliate her; what
did it matter? Before her lay life, and sunshine, and the wide world;
and, as for men, there were plenty to be had. Her mother would grieve.
Well, that was her own affair. Lida had never known what her mother's
youth had been, and after her death there would be no further
supervision. They had met by chance on life's road, and had gone part
of the way together. Was that any reason why they should mutually
oppose each other?
Lida saw plainly that she would never have the same freedom which her
brother possessed. That she had ever thought so was due to the
influence of this calm, strong man whom she affectionately admired.
Strange thoughts came to her, thoughts of an illicit nature.
"If he were not my brother, but a stranger!..." she said to herself, as
she hastily strove to suppress the shameful and yet alluring
suggestion.
Then she remembered Novikoff and like a humble slave longed for his
pardon and his love. She heard steps and looked round.
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