The sight of those two hands, moving with
their usual skill and precision, woke her out of her dream. Her eyes
were opened to the disproportion between what she had felt and the cause
of her agitation; and she was turning away from the window when one hand
abruptly pushed aside the drawing-board and the other flung down the
pencil.
Charity had often noticed Harney's loving care of his drawings, and the
neatness and method with which he carried on and concluded each task.
The impatient sweeping aside of the drawing-board seemed to reveal a new
mood. The gesture suggested sudden discouragement, or distaste for his
work and she wondered if he too were agitated by secret perplexities.
Her impulse of flight was checked; she stepped up on the verandah and
looked into the room.
Harney had put his elbows on the table and was resting his chin on his
locked hands. He had taken off his coat and waistcoat, and unbuttoned
the low collar of his flannel shirt; she saw the vigorous lines of his
young throat, and the root of the muscles where they joined the
chest.
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