—Sisters! why do I call you so? I want to touch you. That I may know perhaps why we are sisters?
Fanny’s hands went up, and her head. Brightly: “Yes! Give the party. Do! Ask everyone....”
There was something Clara, standing there, wondering for her answer, understood. She took Fanny’s hands and clasped them close in her own. She kissed them.
SIX
Pavement Broken
AT last the bell rang the door opened, Clara’s man came in. Clara got up and they shook hands. Fanny was aware in the long strain of waiting that her power to feel was gone.—I shall understand nothing.
“This is my friend, Mark. Fanny, Mr. Mark.”
He was long and moist and breathless. He laid on the sofa carefully a bundle of bottles of wine. His broad black frock coat was worn to a gloss. His skin seemed also, though his hands were white, dark and glossed like his coat. His coat was a uniform and so was his skin. He was behind them.
—I shall understand nothing!