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Glennard
,
as
he
heard
himself
almost
involuntarily
pressing
Flamel
to
come
and
dine
,
felt
the
full
irony
of
the
situation
.
To
use
Flamel
as
a
shield
against
his
wife
’
s
scrutiny
was
only
a
shade
less
humiliating
than
to
reckon
on
his
wife
as
a
defence
against
Flamel
.
He
felt
a
contradictory
movement
of
annoyance
at
the
latter
’
s
ready
acceptance
,
and
the
two
men
drove
in
silence
to
the
station
.
As
they
passed
the
bookstall
in
the
waiting
-
room
Flamel
lingered
a
moment
and
the
eyes
of
both
fell
on
Margaret
Aubyn
’
s
name
,
conspicuously
displayed
above
a
counter
stacked
with
the
familiar
volumes
.
“
We
shall
be
late
,
you
know
,
”
Glennard
remonstrated
,
pulling
out
his
watch
.
“
Go
ahead
,
”
said
Flamel
,
imperturbably
.
“
I
want
to
get
something
—
”
Glennard
turned
on
his
heel
and
walked
down
the
platform
.
Flamel
rejoined
him
with
an
innocent
-
looking
magazine
in
his
hand
;
but
Glennard
dared
not
even
glance
at
the
cover
,
lest
it
should
show
the
syllables
he
feared
.
The
train
was
full
of
people
they
knew
,
and
they
were
kept
apart
till
it
dropped
them
at
the
little
suburban
station
.
As
they
strolled
up
the
shaded
hill
,
Glennard
talked
volubly
,
pointing
out
the
improvements
in
the
neighborhood
,
deploring
the
threatened
approach
of
an
electric
railway
,
and
screening
himself
by
a
series
of
reflex
adjustments
from
the
imminent
risk
of
any
allusion
to
the
“
Letters
.
”
Flamel
suffered
his
discourse
with
the
bland
inattention
that
we
accord
to
the
affairs
of
someone
else
’
s
suburb
,
and
they
reached
the
shelter
of
Alexa
’
s
tea
-
table
without
a
perceptible
turn
toward
the
dreaded
topic
.
The
dinner
passed
off
safely
.
Flamel
,
always
at
his
best
in
Alexa
’
s
presence
,
gave
her
the
kind
of
attention
which
is
like
a
beaconing
light
thrown
on
the
speaker
’
s
words
:
his
answers
seemed
to
bring
out
a
latent
significance
in
her
phrases
,
as
the
sculptor
draws
his
statue
from
the
block
.
Glennard
,
under
his
wife
’
s
composure
,
detected
a
sensibility
to
this
manoeuvre
,
and
the
discovery
was
like
the
lightning
-
flash
across
a
nocturnal
landscape
.
Thus
far
these
momentary
illuminations
had
served
only
to
reveal
the
strangeness
of
the
intervening
country
:
each
fresh
observation
seemed
to
increase
the
sum
-
total
of
his
ignorance
.
Her
simplicity
of
outline
was
more
puzzling
than
a
complex
surface
.
One
may
conceivably
work
one
’
s
way
through
a
labyrinth
;
but
Alexa
’
s
candor
was
like
a
snow
-
covered
plain
where
,
the
road
once
lost
,
there
are
no
landmarks
to
travel
by
.
Dinner
over
,
they
returned
to
the
veranda
,
where
a
moon
,
rising
behind
the
old
elm
,
was
combining
with
that
complaisant
tree
a
romantic
enlargement
of
their
borders
.
Glennard
had
forgotten
the
cigars
.
He
went
to
his
study
to
fetch
them
,
and
in
passing
through
the
drawing
-
room
he
saw
the
second
volume
of
the
“
Letters
”
lying
open
on
his
wife
’
s
table
.
He
picked
up
the
book
and
looked
at
the
date
of
the
letter
she
had
been
reading
.
It
was
one
of
the
last
.
.
.
he
knew
the
few
lines
by
heart
.
He
dropped
the
book
and
leaned
against
the
wall
.
Why
had
he
included
that
one
among
the
others
?
Or
was
it
possible
that
now
they
would
all
seem
like
that
.
.
.
?
Alexa
’
s
voice
came
suddenly
out
of
the
dusk
.
“
May
Touchett
was
right
—
it
is
like
listening
at
a
key
-
hole
.
I
wish
I
hadn
’
t
read
it
!
”
