In the back of her mind, as with a hairpin or two she righted her hair
and decided, glancing down over herself, against attempting to change
even her tumbled blouse or her dusty boots, was an echoing consciousness
of something Galbraith had said that afternoon--"And you know when your
next big thing comes along you will do that too."
Without actually quoting those words to herself, she experienced a
sudden confidence that was almost serene. In a few minutes now, not more
than five, probably--she hoped not more than that--something
incalculable, tremendous, was going to begin happening to her. A thing
whose issue would in all likelihood determine the course of her whole
life. There might be a struggle, a tempest, but she made no effort to
foresee the nature of it. She just relaxed physical and spiritual
muscles and waited. Only she hoped she wouldn't have to wait long.
No--there was the bell.
It was altogether fortunate for Rose that she had attempted no
preparation, because the situation she found herself in when she'd
opened the door for her husband, shaken hands with him, led him into her
sitting-room and asked him to sit down, was one that the wildest cast of
her imagination would never have suggested as a possible one for her and
Rodney.
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