Риф, або Там, де розбивається щастя

XXI

           

           Within,amongthebric-a-bracandfurbelows,hefoundMissPainterseatedinaredundantpurplearmchairwiththeincongruousairofahorsemanbestridingaheavymount.MadamedeChantellesatopposite,stillalittlewananddisorderedunderherelaboratehair,andclaspingthehandkerchiefwhosevisibilitysymbolizedherdistress.Ontheyoungman’sentranceshesighedoutaplaintivewelcome,towhichsheimmediatelyappended:“Mr.Darrow,Ican’thelpfeelingthatatheartyou’rewithme!”

           ThedirectnessofthechallengemadeiteasierforDarrowtoprotest,andhereiteratedhisinabilitytogiveanopiniononeitherside.

           “ButAnnadeclaresyouhave—onhers!”

           Hecouldnotrestrainasmileatthisfaintflawinanimpartialitysoscrupulous.EveryevidenceoffeminineinconsequenceinAnnaseemedtoattestherdeepersubjectiontothemostinconsequentofpassions.Hehadcertainlypromisedherhishelp—butbeforeheknewwhathewaspromising.

           HemetMadamedeChantelle’sappealbyreplying:“IftherewereanythingIcouldpossiblysayIshouldwantittobeinMissViner’sfavour.”

           “You’dwantittobe—yes!Butcouldyoumakeitso?”

           “Asfarasfactsgo,Idon’tseehowIcanmakeiteitherfororagainsther.I’vealreadysaidthatIknownothingofherexceptthatshe’scharming.”

           “Asifthatweren’tenough—weren’tallthereoughttobe!”MissPainterputinimpatiently.SheseemedtoaddressherselftoDarrow,thoughhersmalleyeswerefixedonherfriend.

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