Пробный камень
XI
Thehotairwaschokedwiththescentofwhiteazaleas,whitelilies,whitelilacs;alltheflowerswerewhite;theywerelikeaprolongation,amysticalefflorescence,ofthelongrowsofmarbletombstones,andtheirperfumeseemedtocoveranodorofdecay.TherichatmospheremadeGlennarddizzy.Asheleanedinthedoorpost,waitingfortheflowers,hehadapenetratingsenseofMargaretAubyn’snearness—nottheimponderablepresenceofhisinnervision,butalifethatbeatwarminhisarms....
Thesharpaircaughthimashesteppedoutintoitagain.Hewalkedbackandscatteredtheflowersoverthegrave.Theedgesofthewhitepetalsshrivelledlikeburntpaperinthecold;andashewatchedthemtheillusionofhernearnessfaded,shrankbackfrozen.
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