II
For the first instant she remained there standing motionless; it was
like a declaration of war. In one or two of her fragmentary rehearsals
upstairs she had supposed she would say something conventional to
begin with. But the reality struck conventionality clean out of the
realm of the possible. Her silent pause there was as significant as
the crouch of a hound; and she perceived that it was recognized to be
so by the other that was there. There was in him that quick, silent
alertness she had expected: half defiant, half timid, as of a fierce
beast that expects a blow.
Then she came a step forward and sideways to a chair, sat down in it
with a swift, almost menacing motion, and remained there still
looking.
This is what she saw:
There was the familiar background, the dark paneled wall, the
engraving, and the shelf of books convenient to the hand; the fire was
on her right, and the couch opposite. Upon the couch sat the figure of
the boy she knew so well.
He was in the same suit in which he had traveled; he had not even
changed his shoes; they were splashed a little with London mud. These
things she noticed in the minutes that followed, though she kept her
eyes upon his face.
Pages:
313
314
315
316
317
318
319
320
321
322
323
324
325
326
327
328
329
330
331
332
333
334
335
336
337