He disengaged the rug from about him. “No,
I think I’ll get out here.” He turned
towards her. “Look here, Nona. Get
out here and walk up.” He echoed the little
sound of feeling she had given, pretended laughter.
“It will do you good after that enormous tea.”
She said something about the tea being too enormous
for exertion.
The car drew up. He got out and turned to her.
“Look here. Please do.”
He saw the colour fade away upon her face. “What
for?”
“To talk.” It was all he could say.
She put away the rug and gave him her hand. Warm,
and she said, “How dreadfully cold your hand
is! Go on and get your tea, Jeffries. I’m
going to walk up.”
The man touched his cap. The car slid away and
left them.
They were within the gates. It had been a dull
day. Evening stood mistily far up the long avenue
of the drive and in the distances about the park on
either hand. Among October’s massing leaves,
a small disquiet stirred. The leaves banked orderly
between their parent trunks. Sabre noticed as
a curious thing how, when they stirred, they only
trembled in their massed formations, not broke their
ranks, as if some live thing ran beneath them.
He said, “Do you know what this seems to me?
It seems as though it was only yesterday, or this
morning, that you came to see me at the office and
we talked. Well, I want it to be only yesterday.
I want to go on from there.”
She said, “Yes.”
He hardly could hear the word. He looked at her.
She was as tall as he. Not least of the contributions
to her beauty in his eyes was the slim grace of her
stature. But her face was averted; and he wanted
most terribly to see her face. “Stand a
minute and look at me, Nona.” He touched
her arm. “I want to see your face.”
She turned towards him and raised her eyes to his
eyes. “Oh, what is it you want to say,
Marko?”
There was that which glistened upon her lower lids;
and about her mouth were trembling movements; and
in her throat a pulse beating.
He said, “It’s you I want to say something.
I want you to explain some things. Some things
you said. Nona, when you came into my room that
day and shook hands you said, ‘There!’
when you gave me your hand. You took off your
glove and said, ‘There!’ I want to know
why you said ‘There!’ And you said, ‘Well,
I had to come.’ And you said you were flotsam.
And that night—when we’d been up
to you—you said, ’Oh, Marko, do write
to me.’ I want you to explain what you
meant.”
She said, “Oh, how can you remember?”
He answered, “Because I remember, you must explain.”
“Please let me sit down, Marko.”
She faltered a little laugh. “I can explain
better sitting down.”
A felled trunk had been placed against the trees facing
towards the parkland. They went to it and he
sat beside her. She sat upright but bending forward
a little over her crossed knees, her hands clasped
on them, looking before her across the park.
