Пробный камень
XII
Glennard’scabadvancedslowly,andasheleanedback,gazingwithabsentintentnessatthedesertedpathsthatwoundunderbareboughsbetweengrassbanksofprematurevividness,hisattentionwasarrestedbytwofigureswalkingaheadofhim.Thiscouple,whohadthepathtothemselves,movedatanunevenpace,asthoughadaptingtheirgaittoaconversationmarkedbymeditativeintervals.Nowandthentheypaused,andinoneofthesepausesthelady,turningtowardhercompanion,showedGlennardtheoutlineofhiswife’sprofile.ThemanwasFlamel.
ThebloodrushedtoGlennard’sforehead.Hesatupwithajerkandpushedbackthelidintheroofofthehansom;butwhenthecabmanbentdownhedroppedintohisseatwithoutspeaking.Then,becomingconsciousoftheprolongedinterrogationoftheliftedlid,hecalledout—“Turn—driveback—anywhere—I’minahurry—”
Asthecabswungroundhecaughtalastglimpseofthetwofigures.Theyhadnotmoved;Alexa,withbenthead,stoodlistening.
“MyGod,myGod—”hegroaned.
Itwashideous—itwasabominable—hecouldnotunderstandit.Thewomanwasnothingtohim—lessthannothing—yetthebloodhummedinhisearsandhungacloudbeforehim.Heknewitwasonlythestirringoftheprimalinstinct,thatithadnomoretodowithhisreasoningselfthananyrefleximpulseofthebody;butthatmerelyloweredanguishtodisgust.Yes,itwasdisgusthefelt—almostaphysicalnausea.Thepoisonousfumesoflifewereinhislungs.Hewassick,unutterablysick....
Hedrovehomeandwenttohisroom.
