Риф, или Там, где разбивается счастье

XXXVIII

           Icouldseehedidn’twantmetostay.”

           Shehaddroppedintoachair,andsattherehuddled,stillholdinghercloakabouthershoulders.

           Darrowdidnotdisputeherassumption,andshenoticedthatheexpressednosurprise.Hesatdownatalittledistancefromher,turningaboutinhisfingersthecigar-casehehaddrawnoutastheycamein.Atlengthhesaid:“HadheseenMissViner?”

           Sheshrankfromthesoundofthename.“No....Idon’tthinkso....I’msurehehadn’t...”

           Theyremainedsilent,lookingawayfromoneanother.FinallyDarrowstoodupandtookafewstepsacrosstheroom.Hecamebackandpausedbeforeher,hiseyesonherface.

           “Ithinkyououghttotellmewhatyoumeantodo.”Sheraisedherheadandgavehimbackhislook.“NothingIdocanhelpOwen!”

           “No;butthingscan’tgoonlikethis.”Hepaused,asiftomeasurehiswords.“Ifillyouwithaversion,”heexclaimed.

           Shestartedup,half-sobbing.“No—oh,no!”

           “Poorchild—youcan’tseeyourface!”

           Sheliftedherhandsasiftohideit,andturningawayfromhimbowedherheaduponthemantel-shelf.Shefeltthathewasstandingalittlewaybehindher,buthemadenoattempttotouchherorcomenearer.

           “Iknowyou’vefeltasI’vefelt,”hesaidinalowvoice—“thatwebelongtoeachotherandthatnothingcanalterthat.Butotherthoughtscome,andyoucan’tbanishthem.Wheneveryouseemeyouremember...youassociatemewiththingsyouabhor....You’vebeengenerous—immeasurably.

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