She did not know the room to which
this window belonged, and she paused under the trees, checked by a sense
of strangeness. Then she moved on, treading softly on the short grass,
and keeping so close to the house that whoever was in the room, even if
roused by her approach, would not be able to see her.
The window opened on a narrow verandah with a trellised arch. She leaned
close to the trellis, and parting the sprays of clematis that covered it
looked into a corner of the room. She saw the foot of a mahogany bed,
an engraving on the wall, a wash-stand on which a towel had been tossed,
and one end of the green-covered table which held the lamp. Half of
the lampshade projected into her field of vision, and just under it two
smooth sunburnt hands, one holding a pencil and the other a ruler, were
moving to and fro over a drawing-board.
Her heart jumped and then stood still. He was there, a few feet away;
and while her soul was tossing on seas of woe he had been quietly
sitting at his drawing-board.
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