Part 4 (1/2)
He was thinking of Hallam, considering him a fair example of failure; she also was thinking of Hallam, but with greater kindness. Derelict though the man appeared, the belief held with her that one day he would pull himself together and make good. She got up suddenly.
”We are growing too serious,” she said; ”and it's nearly lunch time.
What a blessed break in the day one's meals make.”
Hallam was in his accustomed seat when she returned, but he did not look up when she pa.s.sed him on her way inside. He was reading a newspaper.
His hands, holding the printed sheet, shook more than usual, she fancied; otherwise he looked much the same. She believed that he was aware of her presence, though he made no sign that he saw her. She pa.s.sed him and entered the narrow pa.s.sage and went direct to her room.
An unaccountable shyness had come over her. She shrank from going into lunch, shrank from the thought of sitting beside him in the embarra.s.sing silence which his taciturnity imposed. The thing was getting on her nerves. In the case of any other man, she believed that she would not have minded this blunt ungraciousness; but this man had the power to hurt her. The thing was incomprehensible and astonished her greatly.
Why should his behaviour wound her when in another man it would merely have given offence?
The gong for luncheon sounded; but still she lingered in her room, reluctant to leave this quiet haven for the dining-room and the disquieting influence of her unresponsive neighbour. But the ordeal had to be faced. It was ridiculous to allow her nervousness to get the upper hand. With an action that was almost violent in the suddenness of her resolve, she opened the door, and stepping into the pa.s.sage went swiftly along to the dining-room. At the door of the dining-room she and Hallam met face to face. He was going in, but he drew back to allow her to precede him. Thanking him briefly, she pa.s.sed him and went on and took her seat. He followed leisurely. When he was seated and waiting to be served, he turned to her with unexpected suddenness and observed:
”You missed a great deal this morning through oversleeping. I have never seen a finer sunrise in my life than the one I witnessed on my walk.”
”You were up at sunrise?”
Her surprised tone, the almost incredulous look in her eyes, drew a wondering glance from him. She saw it and felt furious with herself for her stupidity. She had imagined him sleeping late that morning, had supposed his non-appearance at breakfast was the result of his overnight excess; and she had been tactless enough to betray surprise on learning that he had been abroad so early. She flushed with confusion and averted her eyes.
”I am always up before the sun,” he said. ”I do most of my walking before breakfast. It's the best time of the day.”
”Yes,” she agreed; ”I suppose it is. I slept late.”
An inexplicable vindictiveness came over her. She turned to him again and added almost brusquely:
”I was extraordinarily wakeful last night. I did not get to sleep before the dawn broke.”
”You should cultivate the habit of sleeping in a hurry,” he advised. ”I get all the rest I need in a few hours.”
He began to eat. She watched him for a moment in silence and with a swift compunction for her recent ill-humour.
”I am sorry I missed the sunrise,” she said, relenting, and wishful to make amends. ”Tell me about it.”
He smiled faintly.
”Can any one describe a sunrise?” he asked. ”Are there any words in our language which will paint nature in her most wonderful aspects? If there are I am ignorant of them. You must go out and see these things for yourself.”
This was not encouraging, but she persevered. A sort of inflexible determination to abolish finally the frigid distances he insistently maintained armed her with a temporary bravado which amazed herself. It probably amazed him equally, but he made no sign if so.
”I do not like seeing things by myself. Won't you let me accompany you some morning?”
”Most a.s.suredly,” he answered, after a barely perceptible hesitation.
”But quite possibly you will miss your breakfast. I tramp far.”
”I shall not complain,” she said. ”If you are equal to fasting I have no doubt I can stand it.”
Hallam looked quietly amused. He surveyed her quite steadily for the fraction of a second, and then very deliberately turned his attention again to his plate.
”Do you really think,” he asked presently, ”that your endurance is equal to mine? You don't look to me very strong.”
She was thinking the same about him, but she did not voice her thought.