This room was
dark.
As she entered it she expected to hear the voices from outside. But
she heard nothing.
They were not on the terrace, then!
She again stood still. Her heart was beating violently, and she felt
violent all over, thrilling with violence like one on the edge of some
outburst.
She looked towards the French window. Through its high space she saw
the wan night outside, a sort of thin paleness resting against the
blackness in which she was hidden. And as her eyes became accustomed
to their environment she perceived that the pallor without was
impinged upon by two shadowy darknesses. Very faint they were,
scarcely relieved against the night, very still and dumb--two shadowy
darknesses, Emile and Vere sitting together in silence.
When Hermione understood this she remained where she was, trying to
subdue even her breathing. Why were they not talking? What did this
mutual silence, this mutual immobility mean? She was only a few feet
from them. Yet she could not hear a human sound, even the slightest.
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