Book II
32. Chapter XXXII.
(continued)
"Madame Olenska--" he said; but at the name his
wife raised her hand as if to silence him. As she did so
the gaslight struck on the gold of her wedding-ring,
"Oh, why should we talk about Ellen tonight?" she
asked, with a slight pout of impatience.
"Because I ought to have spoken before."
Her face remained calm. "Is it really worth while,
dear? I know I've been unfair to her at times--perhaps
we all have. You've understood her, no doubt, better
than we did: you've always been kind to her. But what
does it matter, now it's all over?"
Archer looked at her blankly. Could it be possible
that the sense of unreality in which he felt himself
imprisoned had communicated itself to his wife?
"All over--what do you mean?" he asked in an
indistinct stammer.
May still looked at him with transparent eyes. "Why--
since she's going back to Europe so soon; since Granny
approves and understands, and has arranged to make
her independent of her husband--"
She broke off, and Archer, grasping the corner of the
mantelpiece in one convulsed hand, and steadying himself
against it, made a vain effort to extend the same
control to his reeling thoughts.
"I supposed," he heard his wife's even voice go on,
"that you had been kept at the office this evening
about the business arrangements. It was settled this
morning, I believe." She lowered her eyes under his
unseeing stare, and another fugitive flush passed over
her face.
He understood that his own eyes must be unbearable,
and turning away, rested his elbows on the mantel-shelf and covered his face. Something drummed and
clanged furiously in his ears; he could not tell if it were
the blood in his veins, or the tick of the clock on the
mantel.
May sat without moving or speaking while the clock
slowly measured out five minutes. A lump of coal fell
forward in the grate, and hearing her rise to push it
back, Archer at length turned and faced her.
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