"That you, Mrs. Ranger? He hasn't come in yet. But
you go up and wait for him! It's quieter upstairs. I'll tell him
you're here as soon as he comes in."
She did not want to comply, but certainly the little room adjoining
the office was no place for private talk, and she dreaded the idea
of meeting Guy before the curious eyes of strangers. He would be
startled; he would be ashamed! None but herself must see him in
that moment.
So, without protest, she allowed herself to be conducted upstairs
to the room he had engaged, her friend in the office promising
faithfully not to forget to send him up to her at once.
The room was at the top of the house, a bare apartment but not
uncomfortable. It possessed a large window that looked across the
wide street.
She sat down beside it and listened to the tramping crowds below.
Her faintness had passed, but she was very tired, overwhelmingly
so. Very soon her senses became dulled to the turmoil. She
suffered herself to relax, certain that the first sound of a step
outside would recall her. And so, as night spread over the town,
she sank into sleep, lying back in the cane-chair like a worn-out
child, her burnished hair vivid against the darkness beyond.
She did not wake at the sound of a step outside, or even at the
opening of the door. It was no sound that aroused her hours later,
but a sudden intense consciousness of expediency, as if she had
come to a sharp comer that it needed all her wits to turn in
safety.
Pages:
307
308
309
310
311
312
313
314
315
316
317
318
319
320
321
322
323
324
325
326
327
328
329
330
331