“Anne....”
The young girl turned round, but her look strayed beyond him.
“Somebody has come, the front door bell rang.” At this moment she lived her own life so intently that her heart could not hear the silent cry for help of the other life.
Christopher stopped near her for a little while, then he gave a short whistle. The moment when he had decided to open his heart had passed. He was rather pleased that he had not tied himself with embarrassing promises. He remained free.
Anne scarcely noticed when he left her. She leaned again over the balustrade. The corners of her eyes and lips rose imperceptibly. Her small face took on a strange expectant expression.
And on that day he for whom Anne had waited really came.
They sat in the sunshine room, stiff, in a polite circle, as if a hoop were on the ground between them.
Thomas Illey had brought his sister with him. Christopher was also there and Anne imagined that they must all necessarily notice her panting breath, and the blood forever rising to her cheeks.
She began to observe herself carefully, but found her voice natural, her movements regular, as if someone else acted for her. She grew calm; the confused sounds in her head turned into words. Thomas Illey’s voice became distinct from the others and reached her like a touch.
It gave her a tremor. It attracted her irresistibly, she had to turn her face to him. Illey’s eyes were shining and deep. Only for an instant did he look so, then he seemed to make an effort and a cloud of haughty reserve fell over the radiant warmth of his look, concealing it from the rest of the world.