Риф, или Там, где разбивается счастье

XXXIX

           Thissofa,andagrandpianobearingabasketoffadedroses,abiscuit-tinandadevastatedbreakfasttray,almostfilledthenarrowsitting-room,intheremainingcornerofwhichanotherman,short,swarthyandhumble,satexaminingtheliningofhishat.

           Annapausedindoubt;butonhernamingMrs.Birchtheyoungmanpolitelyinvitedhertoenter,atthesametimecastinganimpatientglanceatthemutespectatorinthebackground.

           Thelatter,raisinghiseyes,whichwereroundandbulging,fixedthem,notontheyoungmanbutonAnna,whom,foramoment,hescrutinizedassearchinglyastheinteriorofhishat.Underhisgazeshehadthesenseofbeingminutelycataloguedandvalued;andtheimpression,whenhefinallyroseandmovedtowardthedoor,ofhavingbeenacceptedasabetterguaranteethanhehadhadanyreasontohopefor.Onthethresholdhisglancecrossedthatoftheyoungmaninanexchangeofintelligenceasfullasitwasrapid;andthisbriefsceneleftAnnasooddlyenlightenedthatshefeltnosurprisewhenhercompanion,pushinganarm-chairforward,sociablyaskedherifshewouldn’thaveacigarette.Herpoliterefusalprovokedtheremarkthathewould,ifshe’dnoobjection;andwhilehegropedformatchesinhisloosepockets,andbehindthephotographsandletterscrowdingthenarrowmantel-shelf,sheventuredanotherenquiryforMrs.Birch.

           “Justaminute,”hesmiled;“Ithinkthemasseur’swithher.

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