He had spread open for her eyes and understanding the page
which he had so long hidden. He had as much as confessed to her that she
had come to change him--to complete what he had only half created. It had
been an almost inconceivable and daring confession, and he believed that
she understood him. More than that, she had read about him. She had read
his books. She knew John Aldous--the man.
But what did he know about her beyond the fact that her name was Joanne
Gray, and that the on-sweeping Horde had brought her into his life as
mysteriously as a storm might have flung him a bit of down from a swan's
breast? Where had she come from? And why was she going to Tete Jaune? It
must be some important motive was taking her to a place like Tete Jaune,
the rail-end, a place of several thousand men, with its crude muscle and
brawn and the seven passions of man. It was an impossible place for a young
and beautiful woman unprotected. If Joanne had known any one among the
engineers or contractors, or had she possessed a letter of introduction to
them, the tense lines would not have gathered so deeply about the corners
of Aldous' mouth.
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