Риф, или Там, где разбивается счастье

XXXVI

           Shefeltlikeatravelleronagiddypathbetweenacliffandaprecipice:therewasnothingforitnowbuttogoon.

           “Hadit...haditbegun...beforeyoumetherinParis?”

           “No;athousandtimesno!I’vetoldyouthefactsastheywere.”

           “Allthefacts?”

           Heturnedabruptly.“Whatdoyoumean?”

           Herthroatwasdryandtheloudpulsesdrummedinhertemples.

           “Imean—abouther....Perhapsyouknew...knewthingsabouther...beforehand.”

           Shestopped.Theroomhadgrownprofoundlystill.Alogdroppedtothehearthandbrokethereinahissingshower.

           Darrowspokeinaclearvoice.“Iknewnothing,absolutelynothing,”hesaid.

           Shehadtheanswertoherinmostdoubt—toherlastshamefulunavowedhope.Shesatpowerlessunderherwoe.

           Hewalkedtothefireplaceandpushedbackthebrokenlogwithhisfoot.Aflameshotoutofit,andintheupwardglareshesawhispaleface,sternwithmisery.

           “Isthatall?”heasked.

           Shemadeaslightsignwithherheadandhecameslowlybacktoher.“Thenisthistobegood-bye?”

           Againshesignedafaintassent,andhemadenoefforttotouchherordrawnearer.“YouunderstandthatIsha’n’tcomeback?”

           Hewaslookingather,andshetriedtoreturnhislook,buthereyeswereblindwithtears,andindreadofhisseeingthemshegotupandwalkedaway.Hedidnotfollowher,andshestoodwithherbacktohim,staringatabowlofcarnationsonalittletablestrewnwithbooks.

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