At the door of the blue-and-white room, the one upon which the girl had lavished her most tender fancies, she stood at length, looking in. And as she looked something swam before her eyes. A sob rose in her throat. She choked it back; she brushed her hand across her face. Then she tried to laugh. “Oh, what a goose I am!” she said sternly to herself. And then she ran across the room, sank upon her knees before the window-seat with its blue and white cushions, and burying her face in one of them cried her wretched, jealous, longing heart out.
Anthony, coming in hastily but softly through the small kitchen, heard the rush of footsteps overhead, and stopped. He waited a moment, listening eagerly; then he came noiselessly into the living-room and stood still. His face, always strong and somewhat stern in its repose, had in it to-night a certain unusual intensity. He looked at his watch and saw that there was an hour before train time. Then he sat down where he could see the top of the staircase and waited.
By and by light footsteps crossed the floor above and came through the little hall. From where he sat Anthony caught the gleam of Juliet’s crisp linen skirt. Presently she came slowly down. As she turned upon the landing she met Anthony’s eyes looking up. In a fashion quite unusual to the straightforward gaze of his friend her eyes fell. He saw that her cheeks were pale. He rose to meet her.
“Come and rest,” he said. “You are tired. You have worked too hard. Such a helper a man never had before. And you have made a wonderful success. Juliet, I can’t thank you. It’s beyond that.”
But she would not be led to the cosy corner by the window. She found something needing her attention in the curtain of the bookcase in the dimmest corner of the room, and began solicitously to pull it in various ways, as if there were something wrong with it. He watched her, standing with his arm on the high chimney-piece.
“I think you enjoyed it just a little bit yourself, though,” he observed. “Didn’t you, chum?”
“Yes, indeed,” said Juliet.
Her back was toward him, her head bent down, but his quick ear detected a peculiar quality in her voice. He questioned her again hurriedly.
“You’re not sorry you did it?”
“Oh, no,” said Juliet.