Лето
XV
“Me?No——”Shesetdownthecandleonhisdesk.“Iwantedsomeletter-paper,that’sall.”Hisfacecontracted,andthebushybrowsjuttedforwardoverhiseyes.Withoutansweringheopenedthedrawerofthedesk,tookoutasheetofpaperandanenvelope,andpushedthemtowardher.“Doyouwantastamptoo?”heasked.
Shenodded,andhegaveherthestamp.Ashedidsoshefeltthathewaslookingatherintently,andsheknewthatthecandlelightflickeringuponherwhitefacemustbedistortingherswollenfeaturesandexaggeratingthedarkringsabouthereyes.Shesnatchedupthepaper,herreassurancedissolvingunderhispitilessgaze,inwhichsheseemedtoreadthegrimperceptionofherstate,andtheironicrecollectionofthedaywhen,inthatveryroom,hehadofferedtocompelHarneytomarryher.Hislookseemedtosaythatheknewshehadtakenthepapertowritetoherlover,whohadleftherashehadwarnedhershewouldbeleft.Sherememberedthescornwithwhichshehadturnedfromhimthatday,andknew,ifheguessedthetruth,whatalistofoldscoresitmustsettle.Sheturnedandfledupstairs;butwhenshegotbacktoherroomallthewordsthathadbeenwaitinghadvanished....
IfshecouldhavegonetoHarneyitwouldhavebeendifferent;shewouldonlyhavehadtoshowherselftolethismemoriesspeakforher.Butshehadnomoneyleft,andtherewasnoonefromwhomshecouldhaveborrowedenoughforsuchajourney.Therewasnothingtodobuttowrite,andawaithisreply.
