She sat in a chair in the parlour and regarded the darkening sky through the small casement window. The curtain before one mystery was torn aside, and she saw in reality what lay behind the impulse that had led her into the young man's room. Leonardo had told her it would happen, and warned her to make use of it. She had a horrible glimpse of the once nice little old lady being also borne stationward, still faintly battling and very muddy—one lock of grayish hair straggling over her neck, her face scared, white, but triumphant. Please don’t let any one know that. Noiselessly, his booted feet stepping with careful restraint, he started forward, signalling to Roding to follow. After debating with himself for some time whether he should employ an assistant, or make the attempt alone, his love of gain overcame his fears, and he decided upon the latter plan. She would never look squarely at these dream forms that mocked the social order in which she lived, never admit she listened to the soft whisperings in her ear. He was unusually absurd and ready, and all the time it seemed to Ann Veronica as a delightful possibility, as a thing not indeed to be entertained seriously, but to be half furtively felt, that he was being so agreeable because she had come back again.
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