As she shut the drawing-room door behind her, the muscles of her face relaxed, she stood a moment at the foot of the stairs like a figure of stone.
Mrs. Sachs, emerging from Mr. Leuniger’s private room, where she had been imparting the news of her son’s triumph, came upon her thus.
“My dear!” she cried, going up to her.
Judith roused herself at once, and held out her hand with the comedy-smile which she had learned to wear these last few days.
Mrs. Sachs looked up at her, curiously moved. “My dear, I have to congratulate you.”
“And I to congratulate you, Mrs. Sachs.”
Their eyes met.
Hitherto Judith had been too proud to make the least advance to Reuben’s mother, to respond even to any advance the latter might choose to make. But things were changed between them now.
She looked down at the sallow face, the shrewd eyes lifted to hers, almost, it seemed, in deprecation, in sympathy almost.
Her beautiful face quivered; stooping forward, she pressed her lips with sudden passion to the other’s wrinkled cheek.