er 'like that' on the very first day of
their acquaintance, in his office at Turnhill, and again at the house in
Lessways Street, and again in the newspaper office, and on other
occasions, and again on the night of their arrival at Brighton. But
surely not lately! Or did he look at her 'like that' behind her back?
Was it possible that people noticed it?... Absurd! His explanation of
the origin of the gossip did not convince her. She had, however,
suddenly lost interest in the origin of the gossip. She was entirely
occupied with George Cannon's tone, and his calm, audacious reference to
a phenomenon which had hitherto seemed to her to be far beyond the
region of words.

She was frightened. She was like some one walking secure in the night,
who is stopped by the sound of rushing water and stands with all his
senses astrain, afraid to move a step farther, too absorbed and
intimidated to be aware of astonishment. The point was not whether or
not she had known or guessed the existence of this unseen and formidable
river; the point was that she was thrillingly on its brink, in the dark.
Every instant she heard its swelling current plainer and plainer. She
thought: "Am I lost? How strange that this awful and exquisite thing
should happen to just me!" She was quite fatalistic.

He turned his head suddenly and caught her guilty eyes for an instant
before she could lower them.

"You don't mean to say you don't know what I mean?" he said.

She still could not speak. Her trouble was acute, her self-consciousness
far keener than it had ever been before. She thought: "But it's
impossible that this awful and exquisite thing should happen in this
fashion!" George Cannon moved a step towards her. She could not see his
face, but she knew that he was looking at her with his expression at
once tyrannic and benevolent. She could feel, beating upon her, the
emanating waves of his personality. And she was as confused as though
she had been sitting naked in front of him.... And he had brought all
this about by simply putting something into words--by saying: "It's the
way I look at you!"

He went on:

"I can't help it, you know.... The very first minute I ever set eyes on
you.... Of course I'm thirty-six. But there it is!... I've never seen
any one like you; and I've seen a few! The fact is, Hilda, I do believe
you don't know how fine you are." He spoke more quickly and with boyish
enthusiasm; his voice became wonderfully persuasive. "Yo