“A long way? I seem to have been walking all my life, just that I might reach here to-night.”
With a swift movement, she leaned forward and laid her hand on his.
“Wait!” she said.
It was the first time she had touched his hand with hers.
An unexpected emotion awoke within him. It was as if she had pressed an electric switch, as he had seen her do when entering the darkening room. His inner being seemed flooded with light. His cold, patient apathy quickened suddenly into impatience. He forgot conventions. He lost control of himself. He threw common sense to the winds. He caught the hand she had withdrawn, and gripped it.
“I can’t wait,” he said. “I have waited so long. I want to talk to you.”
He felt like a headstrong boy who refuses to be good. He felt like a lover who suddenly gives way to the desire, cost what it may, to master his mistress. He felt like a drowning man catching at a rope. He felt like nothing he had ever felt before. And it soothed him to see this stately woman quiver and turn pale. Serve her right! What was she doing to him? Why did her touch go to his brain like the instant intoxication of champagne to a starving man? He felt reckless. Devil take the consequences! He couldn’t play-act any more.
She rose at once. His obvious emotion restored her self-control.
“Come,” she said, quietly. Then, to the old man-servant, discreetly busying himself at the sideboard: “Serve the fruit and coffee in the Oak Room, Thomas.”
Even while he blindly followed her, Luke felt a moment of surprise that the order received no deferential acknowledgment. He glanced at the man. Tears were running down his furrowed cheeks.