He has spoken very swiftly; and has startled me, horribly. I don''t like to be startled. I don''t like to lose my place. But now, as he rises and returns, with the book, to the fire, a second or two passes that I cannot account for. I discover at last that I have put my hand to my breast. That I am breathing quickly. That the shadows in which I sit are all at once denser than before—so dense, my skirt seems bleeding into the fabric of the sofa and my hand, rising and falling above my heart, is pale as a leaf upon a swelling pool of darkness.≡思≡兔≡網≡文≡檔≡共≡享≡與≡在≡線≡閱≡讀≡
I will not swoon. Only girls in books do that, for the convenience of gentlemen. But I suppose I whiten and look strange, for when Mr Hawtrey gazes my way, smiling, his smile quite falls. ''Miss Lilly!'' he says. He comes and takes my hand.
Mr Huss comes also. ''Dear child, what is it?'' He holds me close, about the armpit.
Mr Rivers hangs back. My uncle looks peevish. ''Well, well,'' he says. ''What now?'' He shuts his book, but keeps his finger, carefully, between the pages.
They ring for Agnes. She comes, blinking at the gentlemen, curtseying at my uncle, a