Worse Than Strangers

The worst is over. I have seen him. We have been once more in the same room. A bow, a curtsy, I heard his voice and then, he was gone. He has not forgiven me. I have used him ill, deserted him and disappointed him. And worse, I’ve shown a feebleness of character in doing so, which his own decided, confidant temper could not endure.

Once there were no two hearts so open, no feelings so in harmony, but now we are strangers. Worse than strangers, for we may never become acquainted. It is perpetual estrangement. And tonight I’m to be tested once more.

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