Лето

II

           

           Charityimmediatelyperceivedthatsomethingbitterhadhappenedtohim,andthathewastryingtotalkdowntherecollection.Shewentuptobedearly,leavinghimseatedinmoodythought,hiselbowsproppedonthewornoilclothofthesuppertable.Onthewayupshehadextractedfromhisovercoatpocketthekeyofthecupboardwherethebottleofwhiskeywaskept.

           Shewasawakenedbyarattlingatherdoorandjumpedoutofbed.SheheardMr.Royall’svoice,lowandperemptory,andopenedthedoor,fearinganaccident.Nootherthoughthadoccurredtoher;butwhenshesawhiminthedoorway,arayfromtheautumnmoonfallingonhisdiscomposedface,sheunderstood.

           Foramomenttheylookedateachotherinsilence;then,asheputhisfootacrossthethreshold,shestretchedoutherarmandstoppedhim.

           “Yougorightbackfromhere,”shesaid,inashrillvoicethatstartledher;“youain’tgoingtohavethatkeytonight.”

           “Charity,letmein.Idon’twantthekey.I’malonesomeman,”hebegan,inthedeepvoicethatsometimesmovedher.

           Herheartgaveastartledplunge,butshecontinuedtoholdhimbackcontemptuously.“Well,Iguessyoumadeamistake,then.Thisain’tyourwife’sroomanylonger.”

           Shewasnotfrightened,shesimplyfeltadeepdisgust;andperhapshedivineditorreaditinherface,forafterstaringatheramomenthedrewbackandturnedslowlyawayfromthedoor.

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