Now she must concentrate on the flames of the fireplace, see nothing but
them, think of nothing but the swiftly changing domes and walls and
pinnacles they made. She leaned a little forward and rested her cheek
upon her right hand--and thereby she shut out the sight of Dan Barry
effectually. Also it made a brace to keep her from turning her head
towards him, and she needed every support, physical and mental.
Still he did not move. Was he in truth looking at her, or was he staring
beyond her at the grey sky which lowered past the window? The faintest
creaking sound told her that he had risen, slowly, from the crouch. Then
not a sound, except that she knew, in some mysterious manner, that he
moved, but whether towards her or towards the door she could not dream.
But he stepped suddenly and noiselessly into the range of her vision and
sat down on a low bench at one side of the hearth. If the strain had
been tense before, it now became terrible; for there he sat almost
facing her, and looking intently at her, yet she must keep all awareness
of him out of her eyes. In the excitement a strong pulse began to beat
in the hollow of her throat, as if her heart were rising. She had won,
she had kept him in the room, she had brought him to a keen thought of
her. A Pyrrhic victory, for she was poised on the very edge of a cliff
of hysteria. She began to feel a tremor of the hand which supported her
cheek.
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