The bit
of lace at which she still languidly worked dropped from her fingers,
and the steel crochet hook clattered to the floor. She pressed her
temples hard between her damp hands, steadying herself against the desk
while the wave of sickness swept over her. Little by little it subsided,
and after a few minutes she stood up, shaken and terrified, groped for
her hat, and stumbled out into the air. But the whole sunlit autumn
whirled, reeled and roared around her as she dragged herself along the
interminable length of the road home.
As she approached the red house she saw a buggy standing at the door,
and her heart gave a leap. But it was only Mr. Royall who got out, his
travelling-bag in hand. He saw her coming, and waited in the porch.
She was conscious that he was looking at her intently, as if there was
something strange in her appearance, and she threw back her head with a
desperate effort at ease. Their eyes met, and she said: "You back?" as
if nothing had happened, and he answered: "Yes, I'm back," and walked
in ahead of her, pushing open the door of his office.
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