“So I go to India!” he said. “The climate is of course impossible for me; I suffer enough here. Well, it can’t be helped.”
He sat down opposite the girl, bent forward, and let his face fall upon his hands.
“Other men of my age,” he murmured, “are beginning the work of their life. My life is as good as over. I have capabilities; I might do something if I had an impulse.”
He looked at her. Her face was as impassible as stone, her eyes closed. Lacour reached forward and touched her hand, making her start into consciousness.
“Will you lend me your hand one moment?” he asked in an irresistible voice, a low, tired breathing.
Ada did not resist. She had to bend forward a little; he put her palm against his forehead. The man was not merely acting; not purely and simply inventing poses; if so, how came his brow so terribly hot? Yet at this moment the question uppermost in his brain was—whether Ada knew the contents of Mr. Clarendon’s will. He had no means of ascertaining whether or not she had been enlightened. He could scarcely ask her directly.
The girl drew her hand away, and rose from her chair. She breathed with difficulty.
“How cool that was!” he said. Perhaps he had not noticed that her palm was like fire. “That is again something I never yet felt.” Then, with sudden energy: “Miss Warren, what on earth do you think of me? Do you think I am unconscious of the supremely bad taste I show in coming here and talking to you in this way? I have kept away as long as ever I could—a whole month. I was absurd that last time I talked to you. I don’t charge myself with iniquities; in fact, I don’t know that I recognise any sin except sins against good taste. This present behaviour of mine is in the very worst. You understand me as well as if I had spoken out the whole monstrous truth; you judge me. Well, you shall do it in my absence. Good-bye.”
She let him take her hand again. He looked at the palm, appeared to be following the lines.
“That is the line of the heart; that of the head. Both strong and fine. If I were a man of means, or even a man with a future, I would ask you to let this hand lie a little longer in mine, now and afterwards——”