Риф, или Там, где разбивается счастье

III

           Hesatwatchinghertilltheupperlashesmetandmingledwiththelower,andtheirblentshadowlayonhercheek;thenhestoodupanddrewthecurtainoverthelamp,drowningthecompartmentinabluishtwilight.

           AshesankbackintohisseathethoughthowdifferentlyAnnaSummers—orevenAnnaLeath—wouldhavebehaved.Shewouldnothavetalkedtoomuch;shewouldnothavebeeneitherrestlessorembarrassed;butheradaptability,herappropriateness,wouldnothavebeennaturebut“tact.”Theoddnessofthesituationwouldhavemadesleepimpossible,or,ifwearinesshadovercomeherforamoment,shewouldhavewakedwithastart,wonderingwhereshewas,andhowshehadcomethere,andifherhairweretidy;andnothingshortofhairpinsandaglasswouldhaverestoredherself-possession...

           Thereflectionsethimwonderingwhetherthe“sheltered”girl’sbringing-upmightnotunfitherforallsubsequentcontactwithlife.HowmuchnearertoithadMrs.Leathbeenbroughtbymarriageandmotherhood,andthepassageoffourteenyears?Whatwereallherreticencesandevasionsbuttheresultofthedeadeningprocessofforminga“lady”?Thefreshnesshehadmarvelledatwasliketheunnaturalwhitenessofflowersforcedinthedark.

           Ashelookedbackattheirfewdaystogetherhesawthattheirintercoursehadbeenmarked,onherpart,bythesamehesitationsandreserveswhichhadchilledtheirearlierintimacy.Oncemoretheyhadhadtheirhourtogetherandshehadwastedit.Asinhergirlhood,hereyeshadmadepromiseswhichherlipswereafraidtokeep.

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