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With fresh force, he felt conscious of himself from the springy

motions of his legs to the movements of his lungs as he breathed,

and something set his lips twitching.

Joining him, she pressed his hand tightly.

"You're not angry that I sent for you? I absolutely had to see

you," she said; and the serious and set line of her lips, which

he saw under the veil, transformed his mood at once.

"I angry! But how have you come, where from?"

"Never mind," she said, laying her hand on his, "come along, I

must talk to you."

He saw that something had happened, and that the interview would

not be a joyous one. In her presence he had no will of his own:

without knowing the grounds of her distress, he already felt the

same distress unconsciously passing over him.

"What is it? what?" he asked her, squeezing her hand with his

elbow, and trying to read her thoughts in her face.

She walked on a few steps in silence, gathering up her courage;

then suddenly she stopped.