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Who was he to tread on her dreams? She had heroworshipped an unscrupulous adventurer, who had not hesitated to impose on her youth and her ignorance. Five hours later she tiptoed down the hall and paused at the threshold of what they now called his study. Wood struck me a blow which made me a robber. She snapped out of her blissful state and looked at him squarely in the eyes. She glanced at him. Stanley, consenting with dignity. ‘I do not understand you. “There’s no end of things I’d like to talk over with you. The curtains which she had left drawn were open, and the electric lights were turned on. He died in the war. This was automatically rather than thoughtfully done; habit. Um. But in between these wider phases of comparative confidence were gaps of disconcerting doubt, when the universe was presented as making sinister and threatening faces at her, defying her to defy, preparing a humiliating and shameful overthrow.
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