Charity stood among these cross-currents of life as motionless and inert
as if she had been one of the tables screwed to the marble floor. All
her soul was gathered up into one sick sense of coming doom, and she
watched Mr. Royall in fascinated terror while he pinched the cigars in
successive boxes and unfolded his evening paper with a steady hand.
Presently he turned and joined her. "You go right along up to bed--I'm
going to sit down here and have my smoke," he said. He spoke as easily
and naturally as if they had been an old couple, long used to each
other's ways, and her contracted heart gave a flutter of relief. She
followed him to the lift, and he put her in and enjoined the buttoned
and braided boy to show her to her room.
She groped her way in through the darkness, forgetting where the
electric button was, and not knowing how to manipulate it. But a white
autumn moon had risen, and the illuminated sky put a pale light in the
room. By it she undressed, and after folding up the ruffled pillow-slips
crept timidly under the spotless counterpane.
Pages:
269
270
271
272
273
274
275
276
277
278
279
280
281
282
283
284
285
286
287
288
289
290
291
292
293