When she remembered that she stopped again. Then she turned round, and
began to walk back towards the highroad.
Gaspare was waiting. If she went down to the sand she would have to
meet his great intent eyes, those watching eyes full of questions. He
would read her. He would see in a moment that--she knew. And he would
see more than that! He would see that she was hating him. The hatred
was only dawning, struggling up in her tangled heart. But it existed--
it was there. And he would see that it was there.
She walked back till she reached the tunnel under the highroad. But
she did not pass through it. She could not face the highroad with its
traffic. Perhaps the English ladies would be coming back. Perhaps--
She turned again and presently sat down on a bank, and looked at the
dry and wrinkled ground. Nobody went by. The lizards ran about near
her feet. She sat there over an hour, scarcely moving, with the sun
beating upon her head.
Then she got up and walked fast, and with a firm step, towards the
village and the sea.
Pages:
842
843
844
845
846
847
848
849
850
851
852
853
854
855
856
857
858
859
860
861
862
863
864
865
866