His illness had made a difference to his nerve, lying there on one's back took the grit away, gave one too much time to think, showed one such momentous issues.
On the events of this afternoon might hang all his life and all Rachel's!
His capture of her was indeed now to be put to the test!...
II
Rachel came into his room at four o'clock. She carried a great bunch of violets and a paper parcel.
She smiled across the room at him; a cap of white fur on her head, and the hand with the violets held also a large white muff.
"Roddy—I'm coming to have tea with you—alone. You'll be out to everyone, won't you? But first, see what I've brought you."
She was dreadfully excited, he thought, as though she knew already the kind of thing that awaited her. Her smile was nervous, and that trembling of her upper lip, as though she would, perhaps, cry and perhaps would laugh but really was not sure, always told him when she was afraid.
"See what I've brought you!" She put the violets down upon the table beside him—"Now! Look!" She undid the paper and held up to his gaze a deep, gleaming silver lustre bowl, a beautiful bowl because of its instant friendliness and richness and completeness—"I found it!" she said, "staring at me out of a shop window, demanding to be bought. I thought you'd like it."