Риф, или Там, где разбивается счастье

VI

           

           Hewouldhavelikedtopostponethereturn,topersuadehertodrivedirectlytotheBoisfordinner.ItwouldhavebeeneasyenoughtoremindherthatshecouldnotstartforJoignythatevening,andthatthereforeitwasofnomomentwhethershereceivedtheFarlows’answerthenorafewhourslater;butforsomereasonhehesitatedtousethisargument,whichhadcomesonaturallytohimthedaybefore.Afterall,heknewshewouldfindnothingatthehotel—sowhatdiditmatteriftheywentthere?

           Theporter,interrogated,wasnotsure.Hehimselfhadreceivednothingforthelady,butinhisabsencehissubordinatemighthavesentaletterupstairs.

           DarrowandSophymountedtogetherinthelift,andtheyoungman,whileshewentintoherroom,unlockedhisowndoorandglancedattheemptytable.Forhimatleastnomessagehadcome;andonherthreshold,amomentlater,shemethimwiththeexpected:“No—there’snothing!”

           Hefeignedanunregretfulsurprise.“Somuchthebetter!Andnow,shallwedriveoutsomewhere?OrwouldyourathertakeaboattoBellevue?Haveyoueverdinedthere,ontheterrace,bymoonlight?It’snotatallbad.Andthere’snoearthlyuseinsittingherewaiting.”

           Shestoodbeforehiminperplexity.

           “ButwhenIwroteyesterdayIaskedthemtotelegraph.Isupposethey’rehorriblyhardup,thepoordears,andtheythoughtaletterwoulddoaswellasatelegram.”Thecolourhadrisentoherface.“That’swhyIwroteinsteadoftelegraphing;Ihaven’tapennytosparemyself!”

           Nothingshecouldhavesaidcouldhavefilledherlistenerwithadeepercontrition

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