He must have been walking at a furious pace, for he had to stop to wipe his face with his handkerchief. His face was wet, dripping wet.... That wire, that first wire! “Come back!” He saw it now, all of it, everything. His thoughts tore round that first wire in a kind of fierce circle, a clear circle, round and round it, round and round every detail of it. “In the rain of the day before yesterday!” He saw and heard Virginia, very white of face. As though he was there now, he saw Virginia on that day. Just after luncheon. Virginia always called it luncheon, never lunch. “And where shall we luncheon to-day?” she’d say.... Drizzling outside. He heard her voice, rather sharp and hard.
“I’m going out, Smith.”
“Oh, mais il pleut, milady!” That anxious little Smith! so fearful of and for her mistress!
“I am going out, Smith. To send a wire.”
And he saw the sharp and dangerous gesture with which Virginia cut short poor little Smith’s cry that she could send the wire. “Mais il pleut, milady!”
“But I wish to send it myself! No more now. You can come with me if you like.... No, I can’t wait for the car. And I want to walk. Good God, why shouldn’t I walk just for once!” The sudden and sweeping impatience! “Oh, milady, milady!”
And he saw Virginia walking. Long swift strides through the drizzle towards the Post Office in Knightsbridge. She wanted to send it herself! It was an idea.... Oh, he knew, he knew! He saw everything—he saw Virginia’s heart! She wanted to send that wire herself! Ivor would know....
And the anxious little Smith trotting along just behind her, breathlessly. “Oh, milady, milady!” Holding up an umbrella in front of her, trying to cover Virginia with it, panting a little after those swift Virginian strides. Never in her life had Virginia walked under an umbrella, you couldn’t conceive it! Always she had been just ahead of an umbrella, just outside it, and someone panting, laughing, crying behind her. Not an umbrella-woman, Virginia.... Striding towards Knightsbridge with set white face, so determined, heroically set. But she was heroic! Eyes straight ahead—a soldier’s eyes, fearless eyes! Those curious eyes that could make molehills out of mountains—Ah, why had he never thought of that before? And agonised little Smith in her blue waterproof, panting behind with her umbrella inclined forwards. “Oh, milady, milady!”
And then she had sent that first wire. Those two words: “Come back.” Everything was in those two words—imperious and humble, ashamed and forgiving—and so generous! Everything of Virginia and of love was in those two quick words—and he hadn’t seen it! He hadn’t seen Virginia’s heart, that lovely and mysterious heart! He had been like a swine before the two pearls in that wire. He just hadn’t seen! And then she had gone back home, maybe not so swiftly; and happily—oh, yes, happily! He could see the light in her eyes as she walked back home, not so swiftly: the merry light in Virginia’s eyes—trusting Ivor! He would come back quickly. And little Smith had been glad.... But he hadn’t gone. And when she had got back to the “mausoleum,” she had shivered a little from the damp, and was soon in bed with a chill: quite slight at first, “Oh, very minor!” but quick to feed on Virginia’s so weak health, terribly quick and wanton in its fierceness: and to her lungs, easily.... And he had not gone. My God, he had not gone!
And then that second wire—5.45 yesterday! Virginia had waited all day, growing worse all day. She had waited for him. And at last—at 5.30, say!—she had commanded Smith to send that wire: “Please....” And she had commanded Smith on pain of death to say nothing of her being ill. “Just write ‘Please come back.’” Weaker and weaker every minute, the chill in her lungs—poor Virginia, brave Virginia! “Oh, milady, milady!” Pitiful at last! Dying ... maybe she knew she was dying when she told Smith to send that wire, maybe she was at last seeing the “dead-end” of her fears—and no Ivor in the “dead-end” this time! Ah, she was fey, this Virginia. He had always known.... And how he had started to run this morning—ages ago! He had known something. “Please,” she had said. And now in his ears.... And he had wanted everything! He! “And haven’t I given you everything, Ivor?” she softly asked. He heard her.... How she would say, “Ivor!” telling him that the name pleased her heart.... Funny Virginia, she was so mysterious.... Every woman has a legend, there is a legend to every woman.... His was a terrible crime. From a silly, trivial thing this crime had been born, but it was a terrible crime. He had killed Virginia, ... he had closed the reckless light in Virginia’s eyes. The brave and hazardous eyes ... of white Virginia! But why did he see her, think of her, as white? And his mind searched furiously, and at last his mind found a dream in which was a column of marble.... Oh, yes, that funny dream! and the naked white figure clinging to that column, so white she looked up there, clinging to it with white arms and legs, and destroying it with kisses.... That dream had given him Virginia and him to Virginia. And as he walked headlong up the roads of Berkshire he dreamed that dream again.