It came from the
realization that what animated Mrs. Grove was passion. This was
incredible, but it was true; he had never before seen, nor imagined,
such an instant sultry storm of emotions held precariously in check.
Beyond measure it surprised and baffled and agitated him. He understood
now that sense of impending lightning; and, at the same time, he had a
sense that a peremptory brass gong had been struck beside him, and that
he was deafened by the reverberations. Mrs. Grove's still pallid face,
her contained, almost precise, manner, took on a new meaning--he saw
them, fantastically, as a volcanic crust that, under observation, had
hardened against the fire within. Then he was at a loss to grasp why
he, Lee Randon, was permitted to see so much.
His thoughts returned to himself--the voices of the Davencotts, of
William Loyd Grove, echoed from a distance on his hearing--and he tried
to re-arrange his bearing toward his unsought discovery: this was of
enormous importance. He must at once regulate his approach to Mrs.
Grove, get himself firmly in hand; the situation, for him particularly,
had far-reaching unpredictable possibilities. For all her exactness,
Savina Grove had a very exclusive and definite attractiveness; and,
faced by such a dilemma, Lee had the best of reasons for doubting the
ultimate regularity of his response.
But he was, he thought, mentally halting, racing absurdly to
unjustified conclusions; nothing, naturally, disturbing would arise;
but that assurance, the heights of reason, soon faded.
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