A SECOND START IN LIFE With deliberation Gabriella walked the length of the hall to her room, turned and locked the door after she had entered, and took off her hat and wraps and put them away in the closet.

Her head was still carried high and her eyes were defiant and dark in the marble-like pallor of her face.

Except for her burning eyes and the scarlet line of her tightly closed lips, she looked as still and as cold as a statue.
"I'd rather die than have them know that it made any difference," she thought.

"I'd rather die than have them know that I cared." Then sinking into a chair by the dressing-table, she laid her head on her arm and wept tears, not of wounded love, but of deep and passionate anger.
She had spoiled her life! Because of her mad and headstrong folly, she had spoiled her life, and she was barely twenty-seven! Had she been the veriest fool she couldn't have done worse--she who had thought herself so sensible, so strong, so efficient! Jane couldn't have done worse, and yet she had always despised Jane for her weakness.

But she had been as weak as Jane, she had been as unreasonable, she had been as incredibly sentimental and silly.