She stepped upon it but slipped. I was holding the back of the chair, and as she slipped I put out my hands to catch her. For a moment I held her in my arms. She had stumbled in such a way that her head was thrown a little back over my shoulder, and before she could recover herself her face was so close to mine that I could have kissed her with the slightest possible movement of my face.
I thought that I had conquered the feeling which she had inspired in me the first moment I set eyes on her on Tyringham hill. But the blood, rushing through my veins, and my beating pulses, as I held her for a moment in my arms, told me that I was still hopelessly in love with her.
She seemed altogether unaware of it, for recovering her balance she laughed a little, looked at me straight in the eyes, her brows a little lifted, and her lovely lips parted by a smile.
"I slipped," she said. "Wasn't it silly of me!"
And jumping on the chair she got to work again.
I watched her work and drank deep draughts of delicious poison as I watched.
As soon as she had finished she looked at her work critically and said: "That is very much better!" and turning to me, added, "Isn't it?"
I could not help wondering whether she was as unconscious of the effect she produced as she seemed to be. But she gave me no chance of discovering, for finding I did not answer but stood there silent, like a fool, she added:
"I must be off! Au revoir!" and taking up her screwdriver and other things, went with the appearance of utter unconsciousness out of the room.