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The
door
opened
,
and
the
step
was
in
the
room
,
coming
cautiously
toward
him
.
He
kept
his
eyes
shut
,
relaxing
his
body
to
feign
sleep
.
There
was
another
pause
,
then
a
wavering
soft
advance
,
the
rustle
of
a
dress
behind
his
chair
,
the
warmth
of
two
hands
pressed
for
a
moment
on
his
lids
.
The
palms
of
the
hands
had
the
lingering
scent
of
some
stuff
that
he
had
bought
on
the
Boulevard
.
.
.
.
He
looked
up
and
saw
a
letter
falling
over
his
shoulder
to
his
knee
.
.
.
“
Did
I
disturb
you
?
I
’
m
so
sorry
!
They
gave
me
this
just
now
when
I
came
in
.
”
The
letter
,
before
he
could
catch
it
,
had
slipped
between
his
knees
to
the
floor
.
It
lay
there
,
address
upward
,
at
his
feet
,
and
while
he
sat
staring
down
at
the
strong
slender
characters
on
the
blue
-
gray
envelope
an
arm
reached
out
from
behind
to
pick
it
up
“
Oh
,
don
’
t
—
DON
’
T
”
broke
from
him
,
and
he
bent
over
and
caught
the
arm
.
The
face
above
it
was
close
to
his
.
“
Don
’
t
what
?
”
—
—
“
take
the
trouble
,
”
he
stammered
.
He
dropped
the
arm
and
stooped
down
.
His
grasp
closed
over
the
letter
,
he
fingered
its
thickness
and
weight
and
calculated
the
number
of
sheets
it
must
contain
.
Suddenly
he
felt
the
pressure
of
the
hand
on
his
shoulder
,
and
became
aware
that
the
face
was
still
leaning
over
him
,
and
that
in
a
moment
he
would
have
to
look
up
and
kiss
it
.
.
.
He
bent
forward
first
and
threw
the
unopened
letter
into
the
middle
of
the
fire
.
The
light
of
the
October
afternoon
lay
on
an
old
high
-
roofed
house
which
enclosed
in
its
long
expanse
of
brick
and
yellowish
stone
the
breadth
of
a
grassy
court
filled
with
the
shadow
and
sound
of
limes
.
