1
THE next moment he called himself a fool for going about it in this way; but he might as well go through with it now. He knocked again, more loudly, and called out her name, cheerfully. “Phyllis?”
“Who is it?” she asked, in a startled, questioning voice.
He called his own name. “I’ve just discovered we are fellow-lodgers!” he added. “Can I see you?”
She fumbled with the lock, and opened the door. She had just taken off her hat and coat, and she was wearing a black dress that made her seem pale. She looked older; her face was not so untroubledly serene as he had remembered it. But the sight of her gave him just such a momentary unreasonable panic as on that winter night when Clive had brought her into the room at Woods Point. She seemed again the impossible person of his secret dreams.... And then the illusion vanished. She was only—Clive’s girl-problem.
“What are you doing here?”
They both asked the question of each other at once, and then both laughed. “You first,” said Phyllis.
“I’m using this as a work-room occasionally,” he explained.
“Really!” She looked past him into his room. “Right next to mine. How odd!... You and Rose-Ann haven’t separated or anything, have you?”
“Why, no!” he laughed. “Why should you think—?”