Mary Roberts Rinehart

“ To meet Ward, to see again the scorn and loathing in his eyes, more than all, to continue to deserve them—those were the things that to Elinor seemed worse than death itself.
All the philosophy that old Hilary had taught her failed her now. The revolt of the individual against laws made for the masses—what had it brought her but isolation and grief? Of what use was revolt? All must go through the mills of the gods. She knew that now. There were no exceptions. And something else she had learned: that if one is to live through great crises one must have a higher power to turn to for help. ”

“ Boroday listened quietly; better than old Hilary ever could, he understood. He had been reared on an ancient faith.
"He is recovering?"
"Yes."
"And he cares for you, of course?"
"No. I think, perhaps, before he knew—"
"Bah!" said the Russian, and rose. "What sort of love is that which changes? I have seen the man. If he cared at all, he still cares."
He stepped to the door of the arbor and drew a long breath. Over on the next hill, sleeping through all this turmoil, lay old Hilary. Under these same stars Huff fled the law, Ward tossed on his bed, Elinor sat despairing and ashamed. ”

“ You are good as few are good."
"I could sell the house and—and I do not want the jewels. If only you and the others would divide them."
Boroday would not hear of this. To a certain extent he was reconciled to her going away. Things were closing in on the band. Before long they would probably all have to separate. It were better that Elinor be in safety.
So for a long time, they discussed ways and means, available money, the question of a home for old Henriette.
"In some ways," Elinor said, "I feel as though I am deserting him." She glanced though toward the graveyard where old Hilary slept. ”