“There!” he said.
He placed her in a sitting posture against the hedge, and then looked about him.
“What shall I do with her?” he thought. Lida in that moment recovered consciousness, as pale and confused, she began to weep piteously. “My God! My God!” she sobbed, like a child.
“Silly thing!” said Sanine, chiding her good-humouredly.
Lida did not hear him, but, as he moved, she clutched at his arm, sobbing more violently.
“Ah! what am I doing?” she thought fearfully. “I ought not to weep; I must try and laugh it off, or else he’ll guess what is wrong.”
“Well, why are you so upset?” asked Sanine, as he patted her shoulder tenderly.
Lida looked up at him under her hat, timidly as a child, and stopped crying.
“I know all about it,” said Sanine; “the whole story. I’ve done so for ever so long.”
Though Lida was aware that several persons suspected the nature of her relations with Sarudine, yet when Sanine said this, it was as if he had struck her in the face. Her supple form recoiled in horror; she gazed at him dry-eyed, like some wild animal at bay.