Риф, или Там, где разбивается счастье

XI

           IwashurtandunhappyandIdoubtedyou.IsupposeifI’dcaredlessIshouldhavebeenmoreconfident.IcaredsomuchthatIcouldn’triskanotherfailure.Foryou’dmademefeelthatI’dmiserablyfailed.SoIshutmyeyesandsetmyteethandturnedmyback.There’sthewholepusillanimoustruthofit!”

           “Oh,ifit’sthewholetruth!——”Shelethimclaspher.“There’smytorment,yousee.IthoughtthatwaswhatyoursilencemeanttillImadeyoubreakit.NowIwanttobesurethatIwasright.”

           “WhatcanItellyoutomakeyousure?”

           “Youcanletmetellyoueverythingfirst.”Shedrewaway,butwithouttakingherhandsfromhim.“OwensawyouinParis,”shebegan.

           Shelookedathimandhefacedhersteadily.Thelightwasfullonhispleasantly-brownedface,hisgreyeyes,hisfrankwhiteforehead.Shenoticedforthefirsttimeaseal-ringinasettingoftwistedsilveronthehandhehadkeptonhers.

           “InParis?Oh,yes....Sohedid.”

           “Hecamebackandtoldme.Ithinkyoutalkedtohimamomentinatheatre.Iaskedifyou’dspokenofmyhavingputyouoff—orifyou’dsentmeanymessage.Hedidn’trememberthatyouhad.”

           “Inacrush—inaParisfoyer?Mydear!”

           “Itwasabsurdofme!ButOwenandIhavealwaysbeenonoddkindofbrother-and-sisterterms.IthinkheguessedaboutuswhenhesawyouwithmeinLondon.Soheteasedmealittleandtriedtomakemecuriousaboutyou;andwhenhesawhe’dsucceededhetoldmehehadn’thadtimetosaymuchtoyoubecauseyouwereinsuchahurrytogetbacktotheladyyouwerewith.

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