Риф, или Там, где разбивается счастье

XVII

           “I’mnotthinkingofthestage.I’vehadanotheroffer:that’sall.”

           Thereliefwashardlylessgreat.Afterall,hispersonalresponsibilityceasedwithherdeparturefromGivre.

           “You’lltellmeaboutthat,then—won’tyou?”

           Hersmileflickeredup.“Oh,you’llhearaboutitsoon....ImustcatchEffienowanddragherbacktotheblackboard.”

           Shewalkedonforafewyards,andthenpausedagainandconfrontedhim.“I’vebeenodioustoyou—andnotquitehonest,”shebrokeoutsuddenly.

           “Notquitehonest?”herepeated,caughtinafreshwaveofwonder.

           “Imean,inseemingnottotrustyou.It’scomeovermeagainaswetalkedthat,atheart,I’vealwaysknownIcould...”

           Hercolourroseinabrightwave,andhereyesclungtohisforaswiftinstantofreminderandappeal.Forthesamespaceoftimethepastsurgedupinhimconfusedly;thenaveildroppedbetweenthem.

           “Here’sEffienow!”sheexclaimed.

           Heturnedandsawthelittlegirltrottingbacktothem,herhandinOwenLeath’s.EventhroughthestirofhissubsidingexcitementDarrowwasatonceawareofthechangeeffectedbytheyoungman’sapproach.ForamomentSophyViner’scheeksburnedredder;thentheyfadedtothepalenessofwhitepetals.Shelost,however,nothingofthebrightbraverywhichitwasherwaytoturnontheunexpected.PerhapsnoonelessfamiliarwithherfacethanDarrowwouldhavediscernedthetensionofthesmileshetransferredfromhimselftoOwenLeath,orhaveremarkedthathereyeshadhardenedfrommistygreytoashiningdarkness.

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