“You might do worse,” said Rose, gathering herself up for departure.
The mask fell off from Judith’s face as the door closed on her cousin. She stood there stiff and cold in the middle of the room, her hands hanging loosely at her side.
Rose put her head in at the door—
“Do you know what Jack says?” she began, then stopped suddenly.
“Judith, don’t look like that, it is no good.”
“No,” said Judith, lifting her eyes, “it is no good.” Then she went over to the door and shut it.
She sat down on the edge of her little white bed, supporting one knee with a smooth, solid arm, while she stared into vacancy.
Nothing had happened—nothing; yet henceforward life would wear a different face for her and she knew it.
It was impossible any longer to deceive himself. Her wide, vacant eyes saw nothing, but her mental vision, grown suddenly acute, was confronted by a thronging array of images.
Yes, she was beginning to see it all now; dimly and slowly indeed at first, but with ever increasing clearness as she gazed; to see how it had all been from the beginning; how slowly and surely this thing had grown about her life; how in the night a silent foe had undermined the citadel.