“I think it’s rather too hot,” said she.
He sat down on the arm of her chair, but she gave no welcome to him, nor appeared in any way conscious of his proximity. In that rather gross fashion of his, he gently stroked a tendril of loose hair just behind her ear. For a moment she suffered that without moving. Then she put up her hand with a jerky, uncontrolled movement, and brushed his away.
“Oh, please, Raymond,” she said in a low voice.
He had a sullen look for that, and, shrugging his shoulders, got up and went into the house. His father gave a sigh of relief, the reason for which needed no comment.
“Colin will be here for dinner, won’t he?” asked old Lady Yardley.
“Yes, mother,” said Philip. “But won’t you go and rest before that?”
“I think I will sit here,” said she, “and wait for Colin.”
Presently Raymond was back again, with a copy of some illustrated paper. Violet and Philip alike felt the interruption of his presence. They were both thinking of Colin, and Raymond, even if he sat quiet, was a disturbance, a distraction.... Soon he was by Violet’s side again, shewing her some picture which he appeared to think might interest her, and Philip, watching the girl, felt by some sympathetic vibration how great an effort it was for her to maintain that passivity which, all those days, had so encompassed her. The imminence of Colin’s arrival, he could not but conjecture, was what troubled her tranquillity, and below it there was some stir, some subaqueous tumult not yet risen to the surface, and only faintly declaring itself in these rising bubbles....
Raymond had placed the paper on her knee, and, turning the page, let his hand rest on her arm, bare to the elbow. Instantly she let it slip to her side, and, raising her eyes at the moment, caught Philip’s gaze. The recognition of something never mentioned between them took place, and she turned to Raymond’s paper again.
“Quite excellent,” she said. “Such a good snapshot of Aunt Hester. Show it to Uncle Philip.”