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He
stood
mutely
before
her
in
the
dimness
.
“
You
haven
’
t
told
me
how
long
you
’
re
to
be
gone
.
”
“
How
long
?
Oh
,
you
see
.
.
.
that
’
s
rather
vague
.
.
.
.
I
hate
definite
dates
,
you
know
.
.
.
”
He
paused
and
she
saw
he
did
not
mean
to
help
her
out
.
She
tried
to
say
:
“
You
’
ll
be
here
for
my
wedding
?
”
but
could
not
bring
the
words
to
her
lips
.
Instead
she
murmured
:
“
In
six
weeks
I
shall
be
going
too
.
.
.
”
and
he
rejoined
,
as
if
he
had
expected
the
announcement
and
prepared
his
answer
:
“
Oh
,
by
that
time
,
very
likely
.
.
.
”
“
At
any
rate
,
I
won
’
t
say
good
-
bye
,
”
she
stammered
,
feeling
the
tears
beneath
her
veil
.
“
No
,
no
;
rather
not
!
”
he
declared
;
but
he
made
no
movement
,
and
she
went
up
and
threw
her
arms
about
him
.
“
You
’
ll
write
me
,
won
’
t
you
?
”
“
Of
course
,
of
course
—
—
”
Her
hands
slipped
down
into
his
,
and
for
a
minute
they
held
each
other
dumbly
in
the
darkness
;
then
he
gave
a
vague
laugh
and
said
:
“
It
’
s
really
time
to
light
up
.
”
He
pressed
the
electric
button
with
one
hand
while
with
the
other
he
opened
the
door
;
and
she
passed
out
without
daring
to
turn
back
,
lest
the
light
on
his
face
should
show
her
what
she
feared
to
see
.
Anna
drove
to
the
chemist
’
s
for
Owen
’
s
remedy
.
On
the
way
she
stopped
her
cab
at
a
book
-
shop
,
and
emerged
from
it
laden
with
literature
.
She
knew
what
would
interest
Owen
,
and
what
he
was
likely
to
have
read
,
and
she
had
made
her
choice
among
the
newest
publications
with
the
promptness
of
a
discriminating
reader
.
But
on
the
way
back
to
the
hotel
she
was
overcome
by
the
irony
of
adding
this
mental
panacea
to
the
other
.
There
was
something
grotesque
and
almost
mocking
in
the
idea
of
offering
a
judicious
selection
of
literature
to
a
man
setting
out
on
such
a
journey
.
“
He
knows
.
.
.
he
knows
.
.
.
”
she
kept
on
repeating
;
and
giving
the
porter
the
parcel
from
the
chemist
’
s
she
drove
away
without
leaving
the
books
.
She
went
to
her
apartment
,
whither
her
maid
had
preceded
her
.
There
was
a
fire
in
the
drawing
-
room
and
the
tea
-
table
stood
ready
by
the
hearth
.
The
stormy
rain
beat
against
the
uncurtained
windows
,
and
she
thought
of
Owen
,
who
would
soon
be
driving
through
it
to
the
station
,
alone
with
his
bitter
thoughts
.
She
had
been
proud
of
the
fact
that
he
had
always
sought
her
help
in
difficult
hours
;
and
now
,
in
the
most
difficult
of
all
,
she
was
the
one
being
to
whom
he
could
not
turn
.
Between
them
,
henceforth
,
there
would
always
be
the
wall
of
an
insurmountable
silence
.
.
.
.
She
strained
her
aching
thoughts
to
guess
how
the
truth
had
come
to
him
.
Had
he
seen
the
girl
,
and
had
she
told
him
?
Instinctively
,
Anna
rejected
this
conjecture
.
But
what
need
was
there
of
assuming
an
explicit
statement
,
when
every
breath
they
had
drawn
for
the
last
weeks
had
been
charged
with
the
immanent
secret
?
As
she
looked
back
over
the
days
since
Darrow
’
s
first
arrival
at
Givre
she
perceived
that
at
no
time
had
any
one
deliberately
spoken
,
or
anything
been
accidentally
disclosed
.
The
truth
had
come
to
light
by
the
force
of
its
irresistible
pressure
;
and
the
perception
gave
her
a
startled
sense
of
hidden
powers
,
of
a
chaos
of
attractions
and
repulsions
far
beneath
the
ordered
surfaces
of
intercourse
.
She
looked
back
with
melancholy
derision
on
her
old
conception
of
life
,
as
a
kind
of
well
-
lit
and
well
policed
suburb
to
dark
places
one
need
never
know
about
.
Here
they
were
,
these
dark
places
,
in
her
own
bosom
,
and
henceforth
she
would
always
have
to
traverse
them
to
reach
the
beings
she
loved
best
!
