He unclasped his hands from his knees. At that moment he saw the minotaur thing, with its teeth and claws, heard the shuddering voice of it. He wanted to look away at once from Mrs. Shiffney, but he could not. All that he could do was to try not to show by his eyes that he understood her desire and was recoiling from it.
Of course, he failed, as any other man must have failed. She followed every step of his retreat, and sarcasm flickered into her face, transforming it.
"Don't you think I understand you?" she said lightly. "Don't you think you ought to have lived on in Mullion House?"
As she spoke she got up and gently brushed some twigs from her tailor-made skirt.
Claude sprang up, hoping to be helped by movement.
"Oh, no, I had had quite enough of it!" he replied, forcing himself to seem careless, yet conscious that little of what he was feeling was unknown by her at this moment.
"And your opera could never have been brought to the birth there."
She had turned, and they walked slowly back among the fir-trees toward the bridge.
"You knew that, perhaps, and were wise in your generation."
Claude said nothing, and she continued: