music brought a grin to
him. The sounds had drugged the polite little masks and left them poised
morosely in a sleepy dream. The lavender stocking crept tenderly into
evidence. The owlish glasses focused with noncommittal stoicism in its
direction. The blue sash looked worried and the raised eyebrows of the
elderly youth asked unhappy questions. Music made people sad and caused
sighs to trickle from their ludicrously inanimate features. Melting
hearts under lacquered skins, dissolving little whimpers under
perfunctory attitudes.

He remembered his own mood of a few moments ago, and explained to
himself. Something had given him a dream. The night shining through the
window, the curve of Rachel's neck. Rachel ... Rachel ... He grew
suddenly sick with the refrain of her name. It said itself longingly in
his thought as if there was a meaning beyond it.

The playing had stopped. The listeners appeared to be lingering
dejectedly among its echoes. Rachel slipped quickly to her feet, her
arms thrust back as if she were poised for running. She passed abruptly
across the room. Her behavior startled him. The faces looked at her
curiously. She was running away.

Anna followed her quietly into the vestibule and the company burst into
an incongruous babble. Dorn listened to their voices, again firm and
self-sufficient, chattering formalities. He watched Rachel adjusting her
hat with over-eager gestures. Her eyes were avoiding him. She seemed
breathless, her head squirming under the necessity of having to remain
for another moment before the eyes of the people in the room.

"I must go," she said suddenly. Her hand extended itself to Anna. A
frightened smile widened her mouth. Dorn felt her eyes center excitedly
on him. A confused desire to speak kept him silent. He stood up and
entered the hall to play his little part as host. But Rachel was gone.
The door had closed behind her and he stared at the panels, feeling that
the house had emptied itself. Things were normal again. Anna was
speaking to her guests, smoothly garrulous. They were putting on hats
and saying good-bye. They would have to hurry to escape the rain. He
assisted with wraps, his eyes furtively watching the door as if he
expected to see it open again, with Rachel returning.

"I've really had a wonderful time," the lavender stocking was shrilling.
He became solicitous and followed her to the door, walking with her
down the housesteps. A moist summer night, promising