Риф, или Там, где разбивается счастье

XXXVI

           Thepulsationsinherthroathadceased,butsheknewtheywouldbeginagainifshetriedtospeak.

           Darrowwalkedawayandleanedagainstthemantelpiece.Thered-veiledlampshoneonhisbooksandpapers,onthearm-chairbythefire,andthescatteredobjectsonhisdressing-table.Alogglimmeredonthehearth,andtheroomwaswarmandfaintlysmoke-scented.Itwasthefirsttimeshehadeverbeeninaroomhelivedin,amonghispersonalpossessionsandthetracesofhisdailyusage.Everyobjectaboutherseemedtocontainaparticleofhimself:thewholeairbreathedofhim,steepingherinthesenseofhisintimatepresence.

           Suddenlyshethought:“ThisiswhatSophyVinerknew”...andwithatorturingprecisionshepicturedthemaloneinsuchascene....Hadhetakenthegirltoanhotel...wheredidpeoplegoinsuchcases?Wherevertheywere,thesilenceofnighthadbeenaroundthem,andthethingsheusedhadbeenstrewnabouttheroom....Anna,ashamedofdwellingonthedetestedvision,stoodupwithaconfusedimpulseofflight;thenawaveofcontraryfeelingarrestedherandshepausedwithloweredhead.

           Darrowhadcomeforwardassherose,andsheperceivedthathewaswaitingforhertobidhimgoodnight.Itwasclearthatnootherpossibilityhadevenbrushedhismind;andthefact,forsomedimreason,humiliatedher.“Whynot...whynot?”somethingwhisperedinher,asthoughhisforbearance,histacitrecognitionofherpride,wereaslightonotherqualitiesshewantedhimtofeelinher.

           “Inthemorning,then?”sheheardhimsay.

           “Yes,inthemorning,”sherepeated

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