Риф, или Там, где разбивается счастье

XXXVI

           

           Shecontinuedtostandinthesameplace,lookingvaguelyabouttheroom.Foroncebeforetheyparted—sinceparttheymust—shelongedtobetohimallthatSophyVinerhadbeen;butsheremainedrootedtothefloor,unabletofindawordorimagineagesturethatshouldexpresshermeaning.Exasperatedbyherhelplessness,shethought:“Don’tIfeelthingsasotherwomendo?”

           Hereyefellonanote-caseshehadgivenhim.Itwaswornatthecornerswiththefrictionofhispocketanddistendedwiththicklypackedpapers.Shewonderedifhecarriedherlettersinit,andsheputherhandoutandtouchedit.

           Allthatheandshehadeverfeltorseen,theircloseencountersofwordandlook,andtheclosercontactoftheirsilences,trembledthroughheratthetouch.Sherememberedthingshehadsaidthathadbeenlikenewskiesaboveherhead:wayshehadthatseemedapartoftheairshebreathed.Thefaintwarmthofhergirlishlovecamebacktoher,gatheringheatasitpassedthroughherthoughts;andherheartrockedlikeaboatonthesurgeofitslonglongmemories.“It’sbecauseIlovehimintoomanyways,”shethought;andslowlysheturnedtothedoor.

           ShewasawarethatDarrowwasstillsilentlywatchingher,butheneitherstirrednorspoketillshehadreachedthethreshold.Thenhemetherthereandcaughtherinhisarms.

           “Notto-night—don’ttellmeto-night!”hewhispered;andsheleanedawayfromhim,closinghereyesforaninstant,andthenslowlyopeningthemtothefloodoflightinhis.

           

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