They kissed, and hers so gladly given, failed of the secret; yet revealed to him a love that sustained, and sent him forth a man—such as Bellair had not been.
PART SIX
LOT & COMPANY: II
1
Bellair reached New York on a mid-May morning from the west, and walked up Seventh avenue to his old room. It was a time of day that he had seldom known the street and step. There was a different expression of daylight upon them. Of course, he had met these matters on many Sundays, but Sunday light and atmosphere was invariably different to his eyes—something foreign and false about it. He saw the old hall-mark, however, in the vestibule—the partial sweeping.... It had always been her way; all things a form. The vestibule and stone steps had to be swept—that was the law; to be swept with strength and thoroughness was secondary. He rang, and asked the servant for the woman of the house.
Waiting, he found himself in a singular depression of mind. The City had cramped and bewildered him. A small oval of grey-white cloud appeared in the dark hall. It came nearer, and Bellair saw the face of dusty wax—smaller, a little lower from his eyes. It came very near, and was upturned. The vision was dim, and the memory; all the passages slow and cluttered.
“It is Mr. Bellair,” she said, without offering her hand.
“Yes. I’ve come back.”
“I haven’t a room—for you.”
“Oh, I’m sorry.”
“And about your things in storage—I would be glad for the space now. Could you take care of this to-day?’