But as she left them in the
hall, she looked at him brightly and said, "Half-past three, did you
say? That'll suit me."
She ran upstairs with the feeling of spiritual exaltation and quickened
life which the prospect of an emotional scene always aroused in her.
That Mr. Perrott was again about to propose to her, she had no doubt,
and she was aware that on this occasion she ought to be prepared with
a definite answer, for she was going away in three days' time. But
she could not bring her mind to bear upon the question. To come to a
decision was very difficult to her, because she had a natural dislike of
anything final and done with; she liked to go on and on--always on and
on. She was leaving, and, therefore, she occupied herself in laying her
clothes out side by side upon the bed. She observed that some were very
shabby. She took the photograph of her father and mother, and, before
she laid it away in her box, she held it for a minute in her hand.
Rachel had looked at it. Suddenly the keen feeling of some one's
personality, which things that they have owned or handled sometimes
preserves, overcame her; she felt Rachel in the room with her; it was as
if she were on a ship at sea, and the life of the day was as unreal
as the land in the distance. But by degrees the feeling of Rachel's
presence passed away, and she could no longer realise her, for she had
scarcely known her.
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