er
shuddering back to the opposite pole. She pictured herself gradually
subdued to such a conception of life and love, she pictured
Effie growing up under the influence of the woman she saw herself
becoming--and she hid her eyes from the humiliation of the picture...

They were at luncheon when the summons that Darrow expected was brought
to him. He handed the telegram to Anna, and she learned that his
Ambassador, on the way to a German cure, was to be in Paris the next
evening and wished to confer with him there before he went back to
London. The idea that the decisive moment was at hand was so agitating
to her that when luncheon was over she slipped away to the terrace and
thence went down alone to the garden. The day was grey but mild, with
the heaviness of decay in the air. She rambled on aimlessly, following
under the denuded boughs the path she and Darrow had taken on their
first walk to the river. She was sure he would not try to overtake her:
sure he would guess why she wished to be alone. There were moments when
it seemed to double her loneliness to be so certain of his reading her
heart while she was so desperately ignorant of his...

She wandered on for more than an hour, and when she returned to the
house she saw, as she entered the hall, that Darrow was seated at the
desk in Owen's study. He heard her step, and looking up turned in his
chair without rising. Their eyes met, and she saw that his were clear
and smiling. He had a heap of papers at his elbow and was evidently
engaged in some official correspondence. She wondered that he could
address himself so composedly to his task, and then ironically reflected
that such detachment was a sign of his superiority. She crossed the
threshold and went toward him; but as she advanced she had a sudden
vision of Owen, standing outside in the cold autumn dusk and watching
Darrow and Sophy Viner as they faced each other across the lamplit
desk...The evocation was so vivid that it caught her breath like a blow,
and she sank down helplessly on the divan among the piled-up books.
Distinctly, at the moment, she understood that the end had come. "When
he speaks to me I will tell him!" she thought...

Darrow, laying aside his pen, looked at her for a moment in silence;
then he stood up and shut the door.

"I must go to-morrow early," he said, sitting down beside her. His voice
was grave, with a slight tinge of sadness. She said to herself: "He
knows what I am feeling..