He eyed the young couple with the tragic history behind them, and could only suppose that familiarity had dulled their senses. But that other world, in spite of her resolute exclusion of it, was always looking round corners and peeping through chinks and crannies, and rustling and raiding into the order in which she chose to live, shining out of pictures at her, echoing in lyrics and music; it invaded her dreams, it wrote up broken and enigmatical sentences upon the passage walls of her mind. Her recent attitude towards him was undoubtedly a pose. Awful shapes seemed to flit by, borne on the wings of the tempest, animating and directing its fury. Move. .
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