Риф, или Там, где разбивается счастье

XVII

           Hisfirstglanceshowedhimthatshehadregainedhercomposure,andthechangeinherappearancegavehimthemeasureofherfears.ForthefirsttimehesawinheragainthesidelonggracethathadcharmedhiseyesinParis;buthesawitnowasinapaintedpicture.

           “Shallwesitdownaminute?”heasked,asEffietrottedoff.

           Thegirllookedawayfromhim.“I’mafraidthere’snotmuchtime;wemustbebackatlessonsathalf-pastnine.”

           “Butit’sbarelytenminutespast.Let’satleastwalkalittlewaytowardtheriver.”

           Sheglanceddownthelongwalkaheadofthemandthenbackinthedirectionofthehouse.“Ifyoulike,”shesaidinalowvoice,withoneofherquickfluctuationsofcolour;butinsteadoftakingthewayheproposedsheturnedtowardanarrowpathwhichbranchedoffobliquelythroughthetrees.

           Darrowwasstruck,andvaguelytroubled,bythechangeinherlookandtone.Therewasinthemanundefinableappeal,whetherforhelporforbearancehecouldnottell.Thenitoccurredtohimthattheremighthavebeensomethingmisleadinginhissopointedlyseekingher,andhefeltamomentaryconstraint.Toeaseithemadeanabruptdashatthetruth.

           “Icameouttolookforyoubecauseourtalkofyesterdaywassounsatisfactory.Iwanttohearmoreaboutyou—aboutyourplansandprospects.I’vebeenwonderingeversincewhyyou’vesocompletelygivenupthetheatre.”

           Herfaceinstantlysharpenedtodistrust.“Ihadtolive,”shesaidinanoff-handtone.

           “Iunderstandperfectlythatyoushouldlikeithere—foratime.

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