There was something unnatural, but also tremendously impressive to her
in their silence. She felt as if it signified something unusual,
something of high vitality. She felt as if it had succeeded some
speech that was exceptional, and that had laid its spell, of joy or
sorrow, upon both their spirits.
And she felt much more afraid, and also much more alone, than she
would have felt had she found them talking.
Presently, as the silence continued, she moved softly back into the
passage. She went down it a little way, then returned, walking briskly
and loudly. In this action her secret violence was at play. When she
came to the room she grasped the door-handle with a force that hurt
her hand. She went in, shut the door sharply behind her, and without
any pause came out upon the terrace.
"Emile!"
"Yes," he said, getting up from his garden-chair quickly.
"Gaspare told me you were here."
"I have been here about half an hour."
She had not given him her hand. She did not give it.
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