Риф, или Там, где разбивается счастье

XXXVI

           Hertearsmagnifiedeverythingshelookedat,andthestreakedpetalsofthecarnations,theirfringededgesandfrailcurledstamens,presseduponher,hugeandvivid.ShenoticedamongthebooksavolumeofversehehadsentherfromEngland,andtriedtorememberwhetheritwasbeforeorafter...

           Shefeltthathewaswaitingforhertospeak,andatlastsheturnedtohim.“Ishallseeyouto-morrowbeforeyougo...”

           Hemadenoanswer.

           Shemovedtowardthedoorandhehelditopenforher.Shesawhishandonthedoor,andhissealringinitssettingoftwistedsilver;andthesenseoftheendofallthingscametoher.

           Theywalkeddownthedrawing-rooms,betweentheshadowyreflectionsofscreensandcabinets,andmountedthestairssidebyside.Attheendofthegallery,alampbroughtoutturbidgleamsinthesmokybattle-pieceaboveit.

           OnthelandingDarrowstopped;hisroomwasthenearesttothestairs.“Goodnight,”hesaid,holdingouthishand.

           AsAnnagavehimhersthespringsofgriefbrokelooseinher.Shestruggledwithhersobs,andsubduedthem;butherbreathcameunevenly,andtohideheragitationsheleanedonhimandpressedherfaceagainsthisarm.

           “Don’t—don’t,”hewhispered,soothingher.

           Hertroubledbreathingsoundedloudlyinthesilenceofthesleepinghouse.Shepressedherlipstight,butcouldnotstopthenervouspulsationsinherthroat,andheputanarmaboutherand,openinghisdoor,drewheracrossthethresholdofhisroom.Thedoorshutbehindherandshesatdownontheloungeatthefootofthebed.

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