It had said enough for him. Now he knew. Now he had that clue.
He had the sensation of rising to his full height, exultantly, every faculty as alert as though he had never been drugged to sleep by those weak notions of renunciation. The consciousness of power was like a sweet taste in his mouth. The deep, fundamental, inalienable need for possession stretched itself, titanic and mighty, refreshed, reposed, and strengthened by the involuntary rest it had had.
He fixed his eyes on Marise, waiting for the first interchange of a look. He could see that her hands were trembling; and smiled to himself. She was looking at the old man.
Now, in a moment she would look at him.
There were her eyes. She had looked at him. Thunder rolled in his ears.
CHAPTER XII
HEARD FROM THE STUDY
June 20.