ghed heartily,
heartily. She loved him that he compelled her with his strength
and decision. He was all-powerful, the tower of strength which
rose out of her sight.

When the children were in bed, sometimes Anna and he sat and
talked, desultorily, both of them idle. He read very little.
Anything he was drawn to read became a burning reality to him,
another scene outside his window. Whereas Anna skimmed through a
book to see what happened, then she had enough.

Therefore they would often sit together, talking desultorily.
What was really between them they could not utter. Their words
were only accidents in the mutual silence. When they talked,
they gossiped. She did not care for sewing.

She had a beautiful way of sitting musing, gratefully, as if
her heart were lit up. Sometimes she would turn to him,
laughing, to tell him some little thing that had happened during
the day. Then he would laugh, they would talk awhile, before the
vital, physical silence was between them again.

She was thin but full of colour and life. She was perfectly
happy to do just nothing, only to sit with a curious, languid
dignity, so careless as to be almost regal, so utterly
indifferent, so confident. The bond between them was
undefinable, but very strong. It kept everyone else at a
distance.

His face never changed whilst she knew him, it only became
more intense. It was ruddy and dark in its abstraction, not very
human, it had a strong, intent brightness. Sometimes, when his
eyes met hers, a yellow flash from them caused a darkness to
swoon over her consciousness, electric, and a slight strange
laugh came on his face. Her eyes would turn languidly, then
close, as if hypnotized. And they lapsed into the same potent
darkness. He had the quality of a young black cat, intent,
unnoticeable, and yet his presence gradually made itself felt,
stealthily and powerfully took hold of her. He called, not to
her, but to something in her, which responded subtly, out of her
unconscious darkness.

So they were together in a darkness, passionate, electric,
for ever haunting the back of the common day, never in the
light. In the light, he seemed to sleep, unknowing. Only she
knew him when the darkness set him free, and he could see with
his gold-glowing eyes his intention and his desires in the dark.
Then she was in a spell, then she answered his harsh,
penetrating call with a soft leap of her soul, the darkness woke
up, electric, bristling with an