She was irritated by the memory of him running across the road with his hands in his pockets, his head butting against the storm, his eager feet sinking into the snow and dragging themselves out again. She had a crazy wish that he would fall. Why could he not walk? she asked herself. It was absurd to be in such a hurry. There was plenty of time, more than enough, if he but knew it! She laughed, and hated the false, cruel sound, and looked round the hall to see if there were any one to hear; but in the snow, as she opened the gate to him, there was a moment in which she knew nothing but joy. He had come back, he was close to her, and evil had passed away.
"Oh, my darling—" he said. "Let me get off my coat!"
He took her hands, and unsmilingly he scanned her, from her smooth hair to her mouth, from her hands to her feet.
"What is it?" he asked.
She gave him her clear regard. "All the things that have mattered most to me have been comings and goings through this gate and the garden door."
"Well, dearest one—"
"You've come again."
"And I shall come tomorrow."
"Will you?" She closed her eyelids on what he might see, and he kissed her between the eyes. "I have stayed away too long," he said.
"Yes. I want to talk to you. Come and see Notya first."