One evening, as Sally was preparing to go out alone to dinner, she
heard footsteps mounting the stairs to her floor. On the moment, her
heart leapt, beating to her throat. Her hands, raising the hat to
her head, so trembled that she had to put it back upon the
dressing-table. A cold dew damped her forehead. She put her hand up
and found it wet. Then the knock fell and, shaking in every limb,
she set her lips and walked as firmly as she could to the door. There
she stopped, taking a deep breath. Then she swung it open.
It was Devenish.
He took off his hat and held a hand out to her. She accepted it,
confused in her mind as to the reason of his coming. Did he know?
Or was he utterly unconscious? He must have known; he had come to
her door.
"Do you mind my coming in?" he asked.
"No, not at all."
She made way for him to pass into her sitting-room. There followed
an awkward pause which he tried to fill with the laying down of his
hat and the discarding of his gloves. Sally stood there where she
had closed the door, waiting for him to explain his presence. Had
he brought a message for her from Jack? Had he come to see
Jack--knowing nothing--and, finding the rooms below occupied by
another tenant, had he come to learn the reason of her? Why had he
come? And at last he turned frankly to her.
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