Her very hands seemed to quicken in his as now, with sleep quite gone, the fret of memory returned, and she must reassure both herself and him. ‘But you see, dear, mother had told me that you—besides, I did know you at once, really; quite inside, you know, deep down. I know I was perplexed; I didn’t understand; but that was all. Why, even when you came up in the dark, and we talked—if you only knew how miserable I had been—though I knew even then there was something different, still I was not a bit afraid. Was I? And shouldn’t I have been afraid, horribly afraid, if you had not been you?’ She repressed a little shudder, and clasped his hand more closely. ‘Don’t let us say anything more about it, she implored him; ‘we are just together again, you and I; that is all that matters.’ But her words were like brave soldiers who have fought their way through an ambuscade but have left all confidence behind them.
Lawford listened; and that was enough just now—that she still, in spite of doubt, believed in him, and thought and cared for him. He was too tired to have refused the least kindness. He made no answer, but leant his head on the cool, slender fingers in gratitude and peace. And, just as he was, he almost instantly fell asleep. He woke in the darkness to find himself alone. He groped his way heavily to the door and turned the handle. But now it was really locked. Energy failed him. ‘I suppose—Sheila...’ he muttered.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Sheila, calm, alert, reserved, was sitting at the open window when he awoke again. His breakfast tray stood on a little table beside the bed. He raised himself on his elbow and looked at his wife. The morning light shone full on her features as she turned quickly at sound of his stirring.
‘You have slept late,’ she said, in a low, mellow voice.
‘Have I, Sheila? I suppose I was tired out. It is very kind of you to have got everything ready like this.’
‘I am afraid, Arthur, I was thinking rather of the maids. I like to inconvenience them as little as possible; in their usual routine, I mean. How are you feeling, do you think, this morning?’
‘I—I haven’t seen the glass, Sheila.’
She paused to place a little pencil tick at the foot of the page of her butcher’s book. ‘And did you—did you try?’
‘Did I try? Try what?’