"Home!" she repeated. She had no home. But it was a great day,
nevertheless. Only that morning the white-capped femme de chambre
had said, with exaltation in her great eyes:
"So! It is finished, Madame, or soon it will be - in an hour or
two."
"It will be finished, Suzanne."
"And Madame will go back to the life she lived before." Her eyes
had turned to where, on the dressing-table, lay the gold fittings
of Audrey's dressing-case. She visualized Audrey, back in rich,
opulent America, surrounded by the luxury the gold trinkets would
indicate.
"Madame must be lovely in the costume for a ball," she said, and
sighed. For her, a farm in Brittany, the endless round of small
duties; for the American -
Sitting there alone Audrey felt already the reactions of peace.
The war had torn up such roots as had held her. She was terribly
aware, too, that she had outgrown her old environment. The old
days were gone. The old Audrey was gone; and in her place was a
quiet woman, whose hands had known service and would never again
be content to be idle.
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