Mrs. Pendyce's lips were parted, but nothing came through those parted lips. Her eyes, black as sloes in her white face, never moved from his; she made no sound.
Bellew dashed his hand across his brow.
“Well, I will!” he said, “for your sake. There's my hand on it. You're the only lady I know!”
He gripped her gloved fingers, brushed past her, and she saw that she was alone.
She found her own way out, with the tears running down her face. Very gently she shut the hall door.
'My poor dress!' she thought. 'I wonder if I might stand here a little? The rain looks nearly over!'
The purple cloud had passed, and sunk behind the house, and a bright white sky was pouring down a sparkling rain; a patch of deep blue showed behind the fir-trees in the drive. The thrushes were out already after worms. A squirrel scampering along a branch stopped and looked at Mrs. Pendyce, and Mrs. Pendyce looked absently at the squirrel from behind the little handkerchief with which she was drying her eyes.
'That poor man!' she thought 'poor solitary creature! There's the sun!'
And it seemed to her that it was the first time the sun had shone all this fine hot year. Gathering her dress in both hands, she stepped into the drive, and soon was back again in the fields.
Every green thing glittered, and the air was so rain-sweet that all the summer scents were gone, before the crystal scent of nothing. Mrs. Pendyce's shoes were soon wet through.