Риф, или Там, где разбивается счастье

           Nodoubtitwasstillinthepocketofthecoathehadtakenoffwhenhedressedfordinner.Inhisperturbationhepushedbackhischair,andthemovementmadeherlookupathim.

           “What’sthematter?”

           “Nothing.Only—youknowIdon’tfancythatlettercanhavecaughtthisafternoon’spost.”

           “Notcaughtit?Whynot?”

           “Why,I’mafraiditwillhavebeentoolate.”Hebenthisheadtolightanothercigarette.

           Shestruckherhandstogetherwithagesturewhich,tohisamusement,henoticedshehadcaughtfromCerdine.

           “Oh,dear,Ihadn’tthoughtofthat!Butsurelyitwillreachtheminthemorning?”

           “Sometimeinthemorning,Isuppose.YouknowtheFrenchprovincialpostisneverinahurry.Idon’tbelieveyourletterwouldhavebeendeliveredthiseveninginanycase.”Asthisideaoccurredtohimhefelthimselfalmostabsolved.

           “Perhaps,then,Ioughttohavetelegraphed?”

           “I’lltelegraphforyouinthemorningifyousayso.”

           Thebellannouncingthecloseoftheentr’-acteshrilledthroughthecafé,andshesprangtoherfeet.

           “Oh,come,come!Wemustn’tmissit!”

           InstantlyforgetfuloftheFarlows,sheslippedherarmthroughhisandturnedtopushherwaybacktothetheatre.

           Assoonasthecurtainwentupsheaspromptlyforgothercompanion.Watchingherfromthecornertowhichhehadreturned,Darrowsawthatgreatwavesofsensationwerebeatingdeliciouslyagainstherbrain.