Anna drove to the chemist's for Owen's remedy. On the wayshe stopped her cab at a book-shop, and emerged from itladen with literature. She knew what would interest Owen,and what he was likely to have read, and she had made herchoice among the newest publications with the promptness ofa discriminating reader. But on the way back to the hotelshe was overcome by the irony of adding this mental panaceato the other. There was something grotesque and almostmocking in the idea of offering a judicious selection ofliterature to a man setting out on such a journey. "Heknows...he knows..." she kept on repeating; and giving theporter the parcel from the chemist's she drove away withoutleaving the books.
She went to her apartment, whither her maid had precededher. There was a fire in the drawing-room and the tea-tablestood ready by the hearth. The stormy rain beat against theuncurtained windows, and she thought of Owen, who would soonbe driving through it to the station, alone with his bitterthoughts. She had been proud of the fact that he had alwayssought her help in difficult hours; and now, in the mostdifficult of all, she was the one being to whom he could notturn. Between them, henceforth, there would always be thewall of an insurmountable silence...She strained her achingthoughts to guess how the truth had come to him. Had he seenthe girl, and had she told him? Instinctively, Anna rejectedthis conjecture. But what need was there of assuming anexplicit statement, when every breath they had drawn for thelast weeks had been charged with the immanent secret? As shelooked back over the days since Darrow's first arrival atGivre she perceived that at no time had any one deliberatelyspoken, or anything been accidentally disclosed. The truthhad come to light by the force of its irresistible pressure;and the perception gave her a startled sense of hiddenpowers, of a chaos of attractions and repulsions far beneaththe ordered surfaces of intercourse. She looked back withmelancholy derision on her old conception of life, as a kindof well-lit and well policed suburb to dark places one neednever know about. Here they were, these dark places, in herown bosom, and henceforth she would always have to traversethem to reach the beings she loved best!
She was still sitting beside the untouched tea-table whenshe heard Darrow's voice in the hall. She started up,saying to herself: "I must tell him that Owen knows..." butwhen the door opened and she saw his face, still lit by thesame smile of boyish triumph, she felt anew the uselessnessof speaking...Had he ever supposed that Owen would not know?
Probably, from the height of his greater experience, he hadseen long since that all that happened was inevitable; andthe thought of it, at any rate, was clearly not weighing onhim now.
He was already dressed for the evening, and as he cametoward her he said: "The Ambassador's booked for an officialdinner and I'm free after all. Where shall we dine?"Anna had pictured herself sitting alone all the evening withher wretched thoughts, and the fact of having to put themout of her mind for the next few hours gave her an immediatesensation of relief. Already her pulses were dancing to thetune of Darrow's, and as they smiled at each other shethought: "Nothing can ever change the fact that I belong tohim.""Where shall we dine?" he repeated gaily, and she named awell-known restaurant for which she had once heard himexpress a preference. But as she did so she fancied she sawa shadow on his face, and instantly she said to herself: "Itwas THERE he went with her!""Oh, no, not there, after all!" she interrupted herself; andnow she was sure his colour deepened.
"Where shall it be, then?"She noticed that he did not ask the reason of her change,and this convinced her that she had guessed the truth, andthat he knew she had guessed it. "He will always know whatI am thinking, and he will never dare to ask me," shethought; and she saw between them the same insurmountablewall of silence as between herself and Owen, a wall of glassthrough which they could watch each other's faintest motionsbut which no sound could ever traverse...
They drove to a restaurant on the Boulevard, and there, intheir intimate corner of the serried scene, the sense ofwhat was unspoken between them gradually ceased to oppressher. He looked so light-hearted and handsome, soingenuously proud of her, so openly happy at being with her,that no other fact could seem real in his presence. He hadlearned that the Ambassador was to spend two days in Paris,and he had reason to hope that in consequence his owndeparture for London would be deferred. He was exhilaratedby the prospect of being with Anna for a few hours longer,and she did not ask herself if his exhilaration were a signof insensibility, for she was too conscious of his power ofswaying her moods not to be secretly proud of affecting his.
They lingered for some time over the fruit and coffee, andwhen they rose to go Darrow suggested that, if she feltdisposed for the play, they were not too late for the secondpart of the programme at one of the smaller theatres.
His mention of the hour recalled Owen to her thoughts. Shesaw his train rushing southward through the storm, and, in acorner of the swaying compartment, his face, white andindistinct as it had loomed on her in the rainy twilight.
It was horrible to be thus perpetually paying for herhappiness!
Darrow had called for a theatrical journal, and he presentlylooked up from it to say: "I hear the second play at theAthenee is amusing."It was on Anna's lips to acquiesce; but as she was about tospeak she wondered if it were not at the Athenee that Owenhad seen Darrow with Sophy Viner. She was not sure he hadeven mentioned the theatre, but the mere possibility wasenough to darken her sky. It was hateful to her to think ofaccompanying Darrow to places where the girl had been withhim. She tried to reason away this scruple, she evenreminded herself with a bitter irony that whenever she wasin Darrow's arms she was where............