"Order the carriage
to come round at once. Leave Mr. Craig in the drawing-room. I'll
speak to him on the way out."
She dashed upstairs. "Selina! Selina!" she called. And when Selina
came: "Let me see that hand. I hurt you because I got news that
went through me like a knife. You understand, don't you?"
"It was nothing, Miss Rita," protested Selina. "I'd forgot it
myself already."
But Margaret insisted on assuring herself with her own eyes, got
blood on her white gloves, had to change them. As she descended
she was putting on the fresh pair--a new pair. How vastly more
than even the normal is a man's disadvantage in a "serious"
interview with a woman if she is putting on new gloves! She is
perfectly free to seem occupied or not, as suits her convenience;
and she can, by wrestling with the gloves, interrupt him without
speech, distract his attention, fiddle his thoughts, give him a
sense of imbecile futility, and all the time offer him no cause
for resentment against her. He himself seems in the wrong; she is
merely putting On her gloves.
She was wrong in her guess that Arkwright had been at him. He had
simply succumbed to his own fears and forebodings, gathered in
force as soon as he was not protected from them by the spell of
her presence.
Pages:
157
158
159
160
161
162
163
164
165
166
167
168
169
170
171
172
173
174
175
176
177
178
179
180
181