Епоха невинності

           Foralongmomentshewassilent;andinthatmomentArcherimaginedher,almostheardher,stealingupbehindhimtothrowherlightarmsabouthisneck.Whilehewaited,soulandbodythrobbingwiththemiracletocome,hiseyesmechanicallyreceivedtheimageofaheavily-coatedmanwithhisfurcollarturnedupwhowasadvancingalongthepathtothehouse.ThemanwasJuliusBeaufort."Ah—!"Archercried,burstingintoalaugh.MadameOlenskahadsprungupandmovedtohisside,slippingherhandintohis;butafteraglancethroughthewindowherfacepaledandsheshrankback."Sothatwasit?"Archersaidderisively."Ididn’tknowhewashere,"MadameOlenskamurmured.HerhandstillclungtoArcher’s;buthedrewawayfromher,andwalkingoutintothepassagethrewopenthedoorofthehouse."Hallo,Beaufort—thisway!MadameOlenskawasexpectingyou,"hesaid.DuringhisjourneybacktoNewYorkthenextmorning,ArcherrelivedwithafatiguingvividnesshislastmomentsatSkuytercliff.Beaufort,thoughclearlyannoyedatfindinghimwithMadameOlenska,had,asusual,carriedoffthesituationhigh-handedly.Hiswayofignoringpeoplewhosepresenceinconveniencedhimactuallygavethem,iftheyweresensitivetoit,afeelingofinvisibility,ofnonexistence.Archer,asthethreestrolledbackthroughthepark,wasawareofthisoddsenseofdisembodiment;andhumblingasitwastohisvanityitgavehimtheghostlyadvantageofobservingunobserved.Beauforthadenteredthelittlehousewithhisusualeasyassurance;buthecouldnotsmileawaytheverticallinebetweenhiseyes.