I only long to tell them
so. When may I tell my mother, Rachel? She is coming to London this
week."
"You have the pertinacity of a fly. You always come back to the same
point. I am beginning to be rather bored with your marriage. You can't
talk of anything else."
"I can't think about anything else."
He drew her cheek against his. He was an ingratiating creature.
"Neither can I," she whispered.
And that was all Rachel ever said of all she meant to say about Mr.
Tristram.
* * * * *
A yellow fog. It made rings round the shaded electric lamp by which
Rachel was reading. The fire burned tawny and blurred. Even her red gown
looked dim. Hugh came in.
"What are you reading?" he said, sitting down by her.
He did not want to know, but if you are reading a book on another
person's knee you cannot be a very long way off. He glanced with feigned
interest at the open page, stooping a little, for he was short-sighted
now and then--at least now.
Rachel took the opportunity to look at him. You can't really look at a
person when he is looking at you. Hugh was very handsome, especially
side face, and he knew it; but he was not sure whether Rachel thought
so.
He read mechanically:
"Take back your vows.
Pages:
389
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