He started up in sudden alarm. The candles did not fling their circle of light as far as the door—that was in darkness, a black square darker than the rest of the world; and then as his eyes stared at it he saw that there was a figure outlined against it, a grey, shadowy figure.
In a whisper he stammered, “Who is that?”
Then she came forward into the circle of the candles—Mrs. Lester! Mrs. Lester in her blue silk dress cut very low, Mrs. Lester with diamonds in her hair and a very bright red in her cheeks, Mrs. Lester looking at him timidly, almost terrified, bending a little forward to stare at him.
“Ah! it’s you!” He could hear her breath of relief. “I didn’t know, I thought it might be!” She stood staring at him, a little smile hovering on her lips, uncertainly, as though it were not sure whether it ought to be there.
“Ah! it’s you!”
He stood up and faced her, leaning heavily with one hand on the chair.
He wanted to tell her to go away; that he was tired and wasn’t really up to talking—the morning would be better. But he couldn’t speak. He could do nothing but stand there and stare at her stupidly.
Then at last, in a voice that did not seem his own at all, he said, “Won’t you sit down?” She laughed, leaning forward a little with both hands on the green baize table, looking at him.
“You don’t mind, do you? If you do, I’ll go at once. But it’s our last evening. We may not see much of each other again, and I’d like you to understand me.” Then she sat down in a chair by the table, her dress rustling like a sea about her. The candle light fell on it and her, and behind her the room was dark.
But Maradick sat with his head hidden by his hand. He did not want to look at her, he did not want to speak to her. Already the fascination of her presence was beginning to steal over him again. It had been easy enough whilst she had been away to say that he did not care. But now the scent, violets, that she used came very delicately across the floor to him. He seemed to catch the blue of her dress with the corner of his eye even though he was not looking at her. She filled the room; the vision that he had had of the tower slipped back into the night, giving place to the new one. He tapped his foot impatiently on the floor. Why could she not have left him alone? He didn’t want any more struggles. He simply wasn’t up to it, he was so horribly tired. Anything was better than a struggle.