At first they thought her
life was in danger. I passed nightmare days. Then the alarming symptoms
subsided, and it was a question of the saving of the eye and the decent
healing of the cheek torn deep by the claws of the accursed brute. When
Quast informed me of its summary execution I felt the primitive savage
arise in me, and I upbraided Quast for not having invited me to gloat
over its expiring throes. How the days passed I know not. I wandered
about the streets, looking into the windows of the great shops, buying
flowers and fruit for Lola in eccentric quantities. Or sitting in
beerhouses reading the financial pages of a German paper held upside
down. I could not return to London. Still less could I investigate
the German philanthropic methods of rescuing fallen women. I wrote to
Campion a brief account of what had happened and besought him to set a
deputy to work on the regeneration of the Judds.
At last they brought me to where Lola lay, in a darkened room, with her
head tightly bandaged. A dark mass spread over the pillow which I knew
was her glorious hair.
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