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Finally
he
looked
up
,
his
smile
enveloped
her
,
and
she
felt
herself
his
in
every
fibre
,
his
so
completely
and
inseparably
that
she
saw
the
vanity
of
imagining
any
other
fate
for
herself
.
To
give
herself
a
countenance
she
held
out
Owen
’
s
letter
.
He
took
it
and
glanced
down
the
page
,
his
face
grown
grave
.
She
waited
nervously
till
he
looked
up
.
“
That
’
s
a
good
plan
;
the
best
thing
that
could
happen
,
”
he
said
,
a
just
perceptible
shade
of
constraint
in
his
tone
.
“
Oh
,
yes
,
”
she
hastily
assented
.
She
was
aware
of
a
faint
current
of
relief
silently
circulating
between
them
.
They
were
both
glad
that
Owen
was
going
,
that
for
a
while
he
would
be
out
of
their
way
;
and
it
seemed
to
her
horrible
that
so
much
of
the
stuff
of
their
happiness
should
be
made
of
such
unavowed
feelings
.
.
.
“
I
shall
see
him
this
evening
,
”
she
said
,
wishing
Darrow
to
feel
that
she
was
not
afraid
of
meeting
her
step
-
son
.
“
Yes
,
of
course
;
perhaps
he
might
dine
with
you
.
”
The
words
struck
her
as
strangely
obtuse
.
Darrow
was
to
meet
his
Ambassador
at
the
station
on
the
latter
’
s
arrival
,
and
would
in
all
probability
have
to
spend
the
evening
with
him
,
and
Anna
knew
he
had
been
concerned
at
the
thought
of
having
to
leave
her
alone
.
But
how
could
he
speak
in
that
careless
tone
of
her
dining
with
Owen
?
She
lowered
her
voice
to
say
:
“
I
’
m
afraid
he
’
s
desperately
unhappy
.
”
He
answered
,
with
a
tinge
of
impatience
:
“
It
’
s
much
the
best
thing
that
he
should
travel
.
”
“
Yes
—
but
don
’
t
you
feel
.
.
.
”
She
broke
off
.
She
knew
how
he
disliked
these
idle
returns
on
the
irrevocable
,
and
her
fear
of
doing
or
saying
what
he
disliked
was
tinged
by
a
new
instinct
of
subserviency
against
which
her
pride
revolted
.
She
thought
to
herself
:
“
He
will
see
the
change
,
and
grow
indifferent
to
me
as
he
did
to
her
.
.
.
”
and
for
a
moment
it
seemed
to
her
that
she
was
reliving
the
experience
of
Sophy
Viner
.
