When they mounted the stairs they found her room dark. Laurence released her and she went ahead of him to find the light. The moon made a long blue shadow that lay alive on the floor. The bright windows of the houses opposite seemed to flicker with the moving branches of the trees that came between. The night air of the city flowed cold into the room and had a dead smell. They heard the horn of a motor car and children were laughing in the street. Julia was shivering, fumbling for the electric lamp.
Laurence, though he barely saw the outline of her figure, was suddenly aware of something confused and ominous in her delay. "What's the matter, Julia? Do you need my help?" His tone was very casual but gentle. He startled himself. She's unhappy. I need to be kind. He had been restless, feeling something between them. She must come to me. He had a quick sense of relief and tenderness.
The light rushed out and bathed the indistinct walls. The carpet was bleached with it. There was a circle of radiance low about the desk where the lamp stood. Julia had not answered. Her shoulders, turned to him, resisted him. Her head was bent forward, away. She was moving some papers under a book. Her bare hand and arm appeared startlingly alive, saffron-colored in the glow, trembling out of the dim blackness of her sleeve. There were blanched reflections in the lighted folds of her silk skirt.
Laurence was all at once afraid, as if he had never seen her before. "Julia!" He moved a step toward her.
She turned to him, her hands behind her, palms downward on the desk against which she braced herself. Her face was old. Her eyes, staring at him, seemed blind.
Laurence frowned while his lips twitched in a queer smile. He tried to speak, but could not. Without knowing why, he wanted to keep her from speaking.
She buried her face in her hands. "I have something horrible to tell you, Laurence."
Her voice, unexpectedly calm, disconcerted him. Neither had she intended to speak like that. She wanted her emotions to release her. She wanted to be confused. The clearness of the instant terrified her.
Laurence could not ask her what it was. Something hurt him at that moment more than she could ever hurt him afterward. He wanted the silence, unendurable as it was, to go on forever.
Silence.