On the morning after Harmony's flight from the garden in the
Street of Seven Stars, she received a visit from Georgiev. She
had put in a sleepless night, full of heart-searching. She
charged herself with cowardice in running away from Peter and
Jimmy when they needed her, and in going back like a thief the
night before. The conviction that the boy was not so well brought
with it additional introspection--her sacrifice seemed useless,
almost childish. She had fled because two men thought it
necessary, in order to save her reputation, to marry her; and she
did not wish to marry. Marriage was fatal to the career she had
promised herself, had been promised. But this career, for which
she had given up everything else--would she find it in the
workroom of a dressmaker?
Ah, but there was more to it than that. Suppose--how her cheeks
burned when she thought of it!--suppose she had taken Peter at
his word and married him? What about Peter's career? Was there
any way by which Peter's poverty for one would be comfort for
two? Was there any reason why Peter, with his splendid ability,
should settle down to the hack-work of general practice, the very
slough out of which he had so painfully climbed?
Either of two things--go back to Peter, but not to marry him, or
stay where she was. How she longed to go back only Harmony knew.
There in the little room, with only the pigeons to see, she held
out her arms longingly.
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