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Miss
Viner
,
without
answering
,
drew
back
the
bolt
.
He
watched
her
in
silence
as
the
door
swung
open
;
then
he
said
:
“
She
has
her
nurse
with
her
.
She
won
’
t
be
long
.
”
She
stood
irresolute
,
and
he
added
:
“
I
was
writing
in
there
—
won
’
t
you
come
and
have
a
little
talk
?
Every
one
’
s
out
.
”
The
last
words
struck
him
as
not
well
-
chosen
,
but
there
was
no
time
to
choose
.
She
paused
a
second
longer
and
then
crossed
the
threshold
of
the
study
.
At
luncheon
she
had
sat
with
her
back
to
the
window
,
and
beyond
noting
that
she
had
grown
a
little
thinner
,
and
had
less
colour
and
vivacity
,
he
had
seen
no
change
in
her
;
but
now
,
as
the
lamplight
fell
on
her
face
,
its
whiteness
startled
him
.
“
Poor
thing
.
.
.
poor
thing
.
.
.
what
in
heaven
’
s
name
can
she
suppose
?
”
he
wondered
.
“
Do
sit
down
—
I
want
to
talk
to
you
,
”
he
said
and
pushed
a
chair
toward
her
.
She
did
not
seem
to
see
it
,
or
,
if
she
did
,
she
deliberately
chose
another
seat
.
He
came
back
to
his
own
chair
and
leaned
his
elbows
on
the
blotter
.
She
faced
him
from
the
farther
side
of
the
table
.
“
You
promised
to
let
me
hear
from
you
now
and
then
,
”
he
began
awkwardly
,
and
with
a
sharp
sense
of
his
awkwardness
.
A
faint
smile
made
her
face
more
tragic
.
“
Did
I
?
There
was
nothing
to
tell
.
I
’
ve
had
no
history
—
like
the
happy
countries
.
.
.
”
He
waited
a
moment
before
asking
:
“
You
are
happy
here
?
”
