She stood, as it were, directed doorward, with her eyes watching every movement, listening to him, repelled by him and yet dimly understanding. Sheppard, with a look, the wildness of which greatly alarmed her companion. Her figure was, in some measure, hidden by a large scarf, and a deep hood drawn over the head contributed to her disguise; still it was evident, from her lofty bearing, that she had nothing in common, except an interest in their proceedings, with the crew by whom she was surrounded. Gray and tranquil world! Amazing, passionless world! A world in which days without meaning, days in which “we don’t want things to happen” followed days without meaning—until the last thing happened, the ultimate, unavoidable, coarse, “disagreeable. ‘What is this fate?’ ‘Un mariage of no distinction. If I surprised her, if I saw her alone, I might make her understand. I wanted to, that day in the Zoo. “I believe you are quite right so far as regards the present, at any rate,” someone remarked, from the depths of an easy chair.
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