Yes, I did. I used to imagine----"
And then he knew and saw that she knew too. He saw it in the sudden
darkening of her steady eyes, in the perplexity of her drawn brows. He
felt it in her hand that scarcely moved, as though even now it would not
shrink from whatever was the truth. It came and went like a flare of
fire across the storm. And when it had gone, they could not believe that
it had ever been. They were both shaken with astonishment. And yet,
hadn't they always known?
"Good-night, Robert Stonehouse."
"Good-night."
But he could not move. He watched the blank door open, and her slender
shadow stand out for a moment against the yellow gas-light of the hall.
She did not look back. Perhaps she too was spell-bound. The door closed
with an odd sound as though the house had clicked its tongue in
good-natured amusement.
"Now you see how it happens, Robert Stonehouse!"
At any rate, the spell was broken. Hugging his parcel dangerously close
he raced back to the shelter of the trees and waited. High over head the
house opened a bright eye at him. He waved back at it with an absurd,
incredible boyishness.
Then he walked on deliberately, firmly.
What was it he had to set his mind on?
Of course. That question of therapeutics----
II
1
"I don't understand it," Christine said. "It seems to me better than
anything you've ever read to me."
She counted her stitches for the second time, and looked up at the sun
that showed its face over the stable roof opposite, as though at a lamp
which did not burn as well as it used to do.
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