Then for the first time she was conscious of an unaccountable and terrifying sensation. Wanted a clean sweep for elbowroom. The slim knife was wrested from her grasp, and she was flung backwards, towards the bookcases. So, in broken, rather breathless phrases, he told his story; and when he had done, he laid his arms upon the table and bent his head to them. He remembered little whispered speeches of hers, so like the Annabel of Paris, so unlike the woman he loved, a hundred little things should have told him long ago. ‘Playing games to tease me, that’s all he can think of doing. A woman hard to read, who seemed to delight in keeping locked up behind that fascinating rigidity of feature the intense sensibility which had been revealed to him, her master, only in occasional and rare moments of enthusiasm.
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