Page 509 - women-in-love

She sat motionless in her bed in sheer astonishment. She
was too astonished, too much taken by surprise, even to be
afraid.
‘Gerald!’ she echoed, in blank amazement. He had found
his way to the bed, and his outstretched hand touched her
warm breast blindly. She shrank away.
‘Let me make a light,’ she said, springing out.
He stood perfectly motionless. He heard her touch the
match-box, he heard her fingers in their movement. Then he
saw her in the light of a match, which she held to the candle.
The light rose in the room, then sank to a small dimness,
as the flame sank down on the candle, before it mounted
again.
She looked at him, as he stood near the other side of the
bed. His cap was pulled low over his brow, his black over-
coat was buttoned close up to his chin. His face was strange
and luminous. He was inevitable as a supernatural being.
When she had seen him, she knew. She knew there was
something fatal in the situation, and she must accept it. Yet
she must challenge him.
‘How did you come up?’ she asked.
‘I walked up the stairs—the door was open.’
She looked at him.
‘I haven’t closed this door, either,’ he said. She walked
swiftly across the room, and closed her door, softly, and
locked it. Then she came back.
She was wonderful, with startled eyes and flushed cheeks,
and her plait of hair rather short and thick down her back,
and her long, fine white night-dress falling to her feet.

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