There was something, of course, unusual about her--she was young,
inexperienced, and inquisitive, they had been more open with each other
than was usually possible. He always found girls interesting to talk to,
and surely these were good reasons why he should wish to go on talking
to her; and last night, what with the crowd and the confusion, he had
only been able to begin to talk to her. What was she doing now? Lying on
a sofa and looking at the ceiling, perhaps. He could imagine her doing
that, and Helen in an arm-chair, with her hands on the arm of it,
so--looking ahead of her, with her great big eyes--oh no, they'd be
talking, of course, about the dance. But suppose Rachel was going away
in a day or two, suppose this was the end of her visit, and her
father had arrived in one of the steamers anchored in the bay,--it was
intolerable to know so little. Therefore he exclaimed, "How d'you know
what you feel, Hirst?" to stop himself from thinking.
But Hirst did not help him, and the other people with their aimless
movements and their unknown lives were disturbing, so that he longed for
the empty darkness. The first thing he looked for when he stepped out
of the hall door was the light of the Ambroses' villa. When he had
definitely decided that a certain light apart from the others higher up
the hill was their light, he was considerably reassured.
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