She had made many water excursions at night.  Some of them—­two or three at least—­had been mentioned in the Divorce Court.  She had had a narrow escape that summer in London.  It had given her a lesson; but she still had much to learn before she could be considered a past mistress in the school of discretion.  Almost ever since she could remember she had been driven by the reckless spirit within her.  But she had been given a compensation for that in the force of her will.  That force had done wonders for her all through her life.  It had even captured and retained for her many women friends.  Driven she had been, and no doubt would always be, but she believed that she would always skirt the precipices of life, and would never fall into the abysses.

The timorous and overscrupulous women were the women who missed their footing, because, when they made a false step, they made it in fear and trembling, with the shadow of regret always dogging their heels.  And yet, now Jimmy was getting a big boy, even she knew moments of fear.

She moved restlessly.  The torch was luring her on, and yet now, for an instant, she was conscious of holding back.  August was not far off; Jimmy was coming out to her for his holidays.  Suppose, after all, she gave it up?  A word from her—­or merely a silence—­and that man in the pavilion close by would go away from Buyukderer and would probably never come back.  If, for once in her life, she played for safety?

The sound of the band on the quay—­there had been a short interval of silence—­came up to her again.  Forty minutes more!  She would give that man in the pavilion and herself forty minutes.  She could see the lights which outlined the kiosk.  When they went out she would come to a decision.  Till then, sitting alone, she could indulge in a mental debate.  The mere fact that, at this point, she debated the question which filled her mind proved Jimmy’s power over her.  As she thought that she began to resent her boy’s power.  And it would grow; inevitably it would grow.  She moved her thin shoulders.  Then she sat very still.

If only she didn’t love Jimmy so much!  Suppose she had lost her case in the Divorce Case and Jimmy had been taken away from her?  Even now she shuddered when she thought of the risk she had run.  She remembered again the period of waiting when the jury could not come to an agreement.  What torture she had endured, though no one knew it, or, perhaps, ever would know it!  Had not that torture been a tremendous warning to her against the unwise life?  Why go into danger again?  But perhaps there was no danger any more.  A man who has tried to divorce his wife once, and has failed, is scarcely likely to try again.  Nevertheless she was full of hesitation to-night.

This fact puzzled and almost alarmed her, for she was not given to hesitation.  She was a woman who thought clearly, who knew what she wanted and what she did not want, and who acted promptly and decisively.  Perhaps she hesitated now because she had been forced to remain inactive in this particular case for such a long time; or perhaps she had received an obscure warning from something within her which knew what she—­the whole of her that was Cynthia Clarke—­did not consciously know.