CHAPTER IV
TREATS OF THE ATTRACTION OF OPPOSITES
As soon as Trent had left the room Laura felt that the silence became oppressive and constrained. For the first time in her life she found herself overwhelmed with timidity—with a fear of the too obvious word—and this timidity annoyed her because she was aware that she no longer possessed the strength with which to struggle against it. That it was imperative for her to lighten the situation by a trivial remark, she saw clearly, yet she could think of nothing to say which did not sound foolish and even insincere when she repeated it in her thoughts. Had she dared to follow her usual impulse and be uncompromisingly honest, she would have said, perhaps: "I am silent because I am afraid to speak and yet I do not know why I am afraid, nor what it is that I fear." In her own mind she was hardly more lucid than this, and the mystery of her heart was as inscrutable to herself as it was to Kemper.
Then, presently, a rush of anger—of hot resentment—put courage into her determination, and raising her head, with an impatient gesture, she looked indifferently into his face. He was still sitting in the square of sunlight, which had almost faded away, and as she turned toward him, he met her gaze with his intimate and charming smile. Though his words were casual usually and uttered in a tone of genial raillery, this smile, whenever she met it, seemed to give the lie to every trifling phrase that he had spoken. "What is the use of all this ridiculous fencing when you fill my thoughts and each minute of the day I think only of you," said his look. So vivid was the impression she received now, that she felt instantly that he had caressed her in his imagination. Her heart beat quickly, while she rose to her feet with an indignant impulse.
"What is it?" he asked and she knew from his voice that he was still smiling. "What is the matter?"
Picking up his typewritten manuscript, she returned with it to her chair, drawing, as she sat down, a little farther away.
"I merely wanted to look over this," she returned, "Mr. Trent interrupted me in my reading."
"Then you've something to thank him for," he remarked gayly, and added in the same tone, "I noticed that he is in love with you—and I am beginning to be jealous."
For an instant she looked at him in surprise; then she remembered his affected scorn of what he called "social cowardice"—his natural or assumed frankness—and she shook her head with a laugh of protest.
"He in love! Well, yes, he's in love with his imagination. He's too young for anything more definite than that."