Риф, или Там, где разбивается счастье

XXVI

           

           Aftershehadlefthim,Darrowcontinuedtositmotionless,staringbackintotheirpast.Hithertoithadlingeredontheedgeofhismindinavaguepinkblur,likeoneofthelittlerose-leafcloudsthatasettingsundropsfromitsdisk.Nowitwasahugeloomingdarkness,throughwhichhiseyesvainlystrained.Thewholeepisodewasstillobscuretohim,savewherehereandthere,astheytalked,somephraseorgestureorintonationofthegirl’shadlitupalittlespotinthenight.

           Shehadsaid:“Iwonderwhatyourfeelingformewas?”andhefoundhimselfwonderingtoo....Heremembereddistinctlyenoughthathehadnotmeanttheperilouspassion—eveninitsmosttransientform—toplayapartintheirrelation.Inthatrespecthisattitudehadbeenabovereproach.Shewasanunusuallyoriginalandattractivecreature,towhomhehadwantedtogiveafewdaysofharmlesspleasuring,andwhowasalertandexpertenoughtounderstandhisintentionandsparehimtheboredomofhesitationsandmisinterpretations.Thathadbeenhisfirstimpression,andhersubsequentdemeanourhadjustifiedit.Shehadbeen,fromtheoutset,justthefrankandeasycomradehehadexpectedtofindher.Wasithe,then,who,inthesequel,hadgrownimpatientoftheboundshehadsethimself?Wasithiswoundedvanitythat,seekingbalmforitshurt,yearnedtodipdeeperintothehealingpoolofhercompassion?Inhisconfusedmemoryofthesituationheseemednottohavebeenguiltlessofsuchyearnings....Yetforthefirstfewdaystheexperimenthadbeenperfectlysuccessful.

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