Twice during dinner there had come the thud of masses of snow
falling from the roof on to the lawn outside, and the clear sparkle of
the candles had seemed a little dim and hazy. "It would be a comfort
to get at the garden again," she had reflected.
And now that the two sat here in the windless silence the thaw became
more apparent every instant. The silence was profound, and the little
noises of the night outside, the drip from the eaves slow and
deliberate, the rustle of released leaves, and even the gentle thud on
the lawn from the yew branches--all these helped to emphasize the
stillness. It was not like the murmur of day; it was rather like the
gnawing of a mouse in the wainscot of some death chamber.
It requires almost superhumanly strong nerves to sit at night, after a
conversation of this kind, opposite an apparently reasonable person
who is white and twitching with terror, even though one resolutely
refrains from looking at him, without being slightly affected. One may
argue with oneself to any extent, tap one's foot cheerfully on the
floor, fill the mind most painstakingly with normal thoughts; yet it
is something of a conflict, however victorious one may be.
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