Life was ineffably dreary--when it was not
revoltingly horrible.
"Shall I tell you what is the matter?" said Nick.
She started violently, and found him leaning across the flat rock
on which she was seated. His eyes were remarkably bright. She had a
feeling that he suppressed a laugh as his look flickered over her.
"Sorry I made you jump," he said. "You ought to be used to me by this
time. Anyhow you needn't be frightened. My venom was extracted long
ago."
She turned to him with sudden, unconsidered impulse. "Oh, Nick," she
said, "I sometimes think to myself I've been a great fool."
He nodded. Her vehemence did not seem to surprise him. "I thought it
would strike you sooner or later," he said.
She laughed in spite of herself with her eyes full of tears. "There's
not much comfort in that."
"I haven't any comfort to give you," said Nick, "not at this stage.
I'll give you advice if you like--which I know you won't take."
"No, please don't! That would be even worse." There was a tremor in
her voice. She knew that she had stepped off the beaten track; but she
had an intense, an almost passionate longing to go a little further,
to penetrate, if only for a moment, that perpetual mask.
"Don't let us talk of my affairs," she said. "Tell me of your own.
What are you going to do?"
Nick's eyebrows went up.
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