Explore "The Cable" by Marion Ames Taggart on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
Cicely came out into the golden weather of that belated St. Martin's Summer day which she had said had been sent to bless her path to her new home. The sunshine was as warm, the air as soft, the sky as beautifully blue as when she had crossed the threshold of her paradise, from which horror and her stumbling conscience were driving her, but she saw nothing of the beauty around her.
Shut into her own mind, she walked unseeing, unaware, the interior darkness not lifting even so much as to reveal to her what and why she suffered. Or did she suffer? Something had happened to her; everything was obliterated; pain was not conscious to her, nor loss, but in a vacuum that forbade breath, in a pit without ray or exit, she walked the Beaconhite streets, not knowing where she went, nor whom she passed. Something repeated ceaselessly: "A wife. A wife, alive; he has a wife. He is married. " She did not know why she so insisted upon this; it tired her, and many men had a wife. Who was it that had one whose having one so mattered to her?