Поворот винта
Chapter 10
Ihaddropped,withthejoyofherreappearance,backintomychair—feelingthen,andthenonly,alittlefaint;andshehadpatteredstraightovertome,thrownherselfuponmyknee,givenherselftobeheldwiththeflameofthecandlefullinthewonderfullittlefacethatwasstillflushedwithsleep.Irememberclosingmyeyesaninstant,yieldingly,consciously,asbeforetheexcessofsomethingbeautifulthatshoneoutoftheblueofherown.“Youwerelookingformeoutofthewindow?”Isaid.“YouthoughtImightbewalkinginthegrounds?”
“Well,youknow,Ithoughtsomeonewas”—sheneverblanchedasshesmiledoutthatatme.
Oh,howIlookedathernow!“Anddidyouseeanyone?”
“Ah,no!”shereturned,almostwiththefullprivilegeofchildishinconsequence,resentfully,thoughwithalongsweetnessinherlittledrawlofthenegative.
Atthatmoment,inthestateofmynerves,Iabsolutelybelievedshelied;andifIoncemoreclosedmyeyesitwasbeforethedazzleofthethreeorfourpossiblewaysinwhichImighttakethisup.Oneofthese,foramoment,temptedmewithsuchsingularintensitythat,towithstandit,Imusthavegrippedmylittlegirlwithaspasmthat,wonderfully,shesubmittedtowithoutacryorasignoffright.
