It was difficult
to discover any argument against it.
He seemed to be more interested in looking at her when he thought she was
not noticing. That little faint vague fear came back to her and stayed
with her, but brought no quickening of her pulse. It was a fear of
something ugly. She had the feeling they were both acting, that
everything depended upon their not forgetting their parts. In handing
things to one another, they were both of them so careful that their hands
should not meet and touch.
They walked together back to Westminster and wished each other a short
good-night upon what once had been their common doorstep. With her
latchkey in her hand, she turned and watched his retreating figure, and
suddenly a wave of longing seized her to run after him and call him
back--to see his eyes light up and feel the pressure of his hands. It
was only by clinging to the railings and counting till she was sure he
had entered his own house round the corner and closed the door behind
him, that she restrained herself.
It was a frightened face that looked at her out of the glass, as she
stood before it taking off her hat.
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