There was a quality of awareness in her steady gaze that terrified him
for a moment by its implication, which made him feel as if he stood
over a powder magazine and that she held the detonator in her hand.
But immediately he perceived the absurdity of his momentary panic.
Myra turned her head to speak to Doris. She smiled, the old dimpling
smile which gave him a strange feeling to see again. Certainly his
imagination was playing him tricks. How could she know? And what would
she care if she did know,--so long as he made no claims, so long as he
let the dead past lie in its grave. For Myra was as deeply concerned
to have done with their old life as he. He rested upon that assumption
and went into the house and sat down to his supper.
Later, towards sundown, Myra went home. Hollister watched her vanish
among the thickets, thinking that she too had changed,--as greatly as
himself. She had been timid once, reluctant to stay alone over night
in a house with telephones and servants, on a street brilliantly
lighted. Now she could apparently face the loneliness of those
solitudes without uneasiness.
Pages:
185
186
187
188
189
190
191
192
193
194
195
196
197
198
199
200
201
202
203
204
205
206
207
208
209