“May I sit down?” he asked.
She bowed her head. For a moment they looked at one another in silence. Arthur suddenly forgot all he had prepared to say. His intrusion seemed intolerable.
“Why have you come?” she said hoarsely.
They both felt that it was useless to attempt the conventionality of society. It was impossible to deal with the polite commonplaces that ease an awkward situation.
“I thought that I might be able to help you,” he answered gravely.
“I want no help. I’m perfectly happy. I have nothing to say to you.”
She spoke hurriedly, with a certain nervousness, and her eyes were fixed anxiously on the door as though she feared that someone would come in.
“I feel that we have much to say to one another,” he insisted. “If it is inconvenient for us to talk here, will you not come and see me?”
“He’d know,” she cried suddenly, as if the words were dragged out of her. “D’you think anything can be hidden from him?”
Arthur glanced at her. He was horrified by the terror that was in her eyes. In the full light of day a change was plain in her expression. Her face was strangely drawn, and pinched, and there was in it a constant look as of a person cowed. Arthur turned away.