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She
was
aware
that
Darrow
was
still
silently
watching
her
,
but
he
neither
stirred
nor
spoke
till
she
had
reached
the
threshold
.
Then
he
met
her
there
and
caught
her
in
his
arms
.
“
Not
to
-
night
—
don
’
t
tell
me
to
-
night
!
”
he
whispered
;
and
she
leaned
away
from
him
,
closing
her
eyes
for
an
instant
,
and
then
slowly
opening
them
to
the
flood
of
light
in
his
.
Anna
and
Darrow
,
the
next
day
,
sat
alone
in
a
compartment
of
the
Paris
train
.
Anna
,
when
they
entered
it
,
had
put
herself
in
the
farthest
corner
and
placed
her
bag
on
the
adjoining
seat
.
She
had
decided
suddenly
to
accompany
Darrow
to
Paris
,
had
even
persuaded
him
to
wait
for
a
later
train
in
order
that
they
might
travel
together
.
She
had
an
intense
longing
to
be
with
him
,
an
almost
morbid
terror
of
losing
sight
of
him
for
a
moment
:
when
he
jumped
out
of
the
train
and
ran
back
along
the
platform
to
buy
a
newspaper
for
her
she
felt
as
though
she
should
never
see
him
again
,
and
shivered
with
the
cold
misery
of
her
last
journey
to
Paris
,
when
she
had
thought
herself
parted
from
him
forever
.
Yet
she
wanted
to
keep
him
at
a
distance
,
on
the
other
side
of
the
compartment
,
and
as
the
train
moved
out
of
the
station
she
drew
from
her
bag
the
letters
she
had
thrust
in
it
as
she
left
the
house
,
and
began
to
glance
over
them
so
that
her
lowered
lids
should
hide
her
eyes
from
him
.
She
was
his
now
,
his
for
life
:
there
could
never
again
be
any
question
of
sacrificing
herself
to
Effie
’
s
welfare
,
or
to
any
other
abstract
conception
of
duty
.
Effie
of
course
would
not
suffer
;
Anna
would
pay
for
her
bliss
as
a
wife
by
redoubled
devotion
as
a
mother
.
Her
scruples
were
not
overcome
;
but
for
the
time
their
voices
were
drowned
in
the
tumultuous
rumour
of
her
happiness
.
As
she
opened
her
letters
she
was
conscious
that
Darrow
’
s
gaze
was
fixed
on
her
,
and
gradually
it
drew
her
eyes
upward
,
and
she
drank
deep
of
the
passionate
tenderness
in
his
.
Then
the
blood
rose
to
her
face
and
she
felt
again
the
desire
to
shield
herself
.
She
turned
back
to
her
letters
and
her
glance
lit
on
an
envelope
inscribed
in
Owen
’
s
hand
.
Her
heart
began
to
beat
oppressively
:
she
was
in
a
mood
when
the
simplest
things
seemed
ominous
.
What
could
Owen
have
to
say
to
her
?
Only
the
first
page
was
covered
,
and
it
contained
simply
the
announcement
that
,
in
the
company
of
a
young
compatriot
who
was
studying
at
the
Beaux
Arts
,
he
had
planned
to
leave
for
Spain
the
following
evening
.
“
He
hasn
’
t
seen
her
,
then
!
”
was
Anna
’
s
instant
thought
;
and
her
feeling
was
a
strange
compound
of
humiliation
and
relief
.
The
girl
had
kept
her
word
,
lived
up
to
the
line
of
conduct
she
had
set
herself
;
and
Anna
had
failed
in
the
same
attempt
.
She
did
not
reproach
herself
with
her
failure
;
but
she
would
have
been
happier
if
there
had
been
less
discrepancy
between
her
words
to
Sophy
Viner
and
the
act
which
had
followed
them
.
It
irritated
her
obscurely
that
the
girl
should
have
been
so
much
surer
of
her
power
to
carry
out
her
purpose
.
.
.
Anna
looked
up
and
saw
that
Darrow
’
s
eyes
were
on
the
newspaper
.
He
seemed
calm
and
secure
,
almost
indifferent
to
her
presence
.
“
Will
it
become
a
matter
of
course
to
him
so
soon
?
”
she
wondered
with
a
twinge
of
jealousy
.
She
sat
motionless
,
her
eyes
fixed
on
him
,
trying
to
make
him
feel
the
attraction
of
her
gaze
as
she
felt
his
.
It
surprised
and
shamed
her
to
detect
a
new
element
in
her
love
for
him
:
a
sort
of
suspicious
tyrannical
tenderness
that
seemed
to
deprive
it
of
all
serenity
.
