How came they to make this appointment? There was
something in Clara's voice that set his nerves a-tremble. That night
he could not sleep, and next morning he went to work with a senile
quiver in his body. For the first time for more than two months he
turned into a public-house on his way, just to give himself a little
'tone.' The natural result of such a tonic was to heighten the fever
of his imagination; goodness knows how far he had got in a drama of
happiness before he threw off his coat and settled to his day's
labour.
Clara, in the meanwhile, suffered a corresponding agitation, more
penetrative in proportion to the finer substance of her nature. She
did not know until the scene was over how much vital force it had
cost her; when she took off the veil a fire danced before her eyes,
and her limbs ached and trembled as she lay down in the darkness.
All night long she was acting her part over and over; when she woke
up, it was always at the point where Sidney replied to her, 'But you
are mistaken!'
Acting her part; yes, but a few hours had turned the make-believe
into something earnest enough. She could not now have met Kirkwood
with the self-possession of last evening.
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