Page:The woman, the man, and the monster (IA womanmanmonster00dawe).pdf/241

 glimpses of that plaintive expression he feared that memory was at work.

Who was she, what was she? Was she much wronged or much wronging—a woman to be cherished or spurned? To him she was a de- lightful enigma, a phantasm almost, a dream come true. Perhaps not so much of a riddle as he liked to think; yet one, the solution of which he almost dreaded even while he strove to know it.