s, Howat saw, had his arm raised, flourishing a
blade; a stupid effigy of savage spleen. Beyond the drapery Ludowika's
face was dim and white. It was like an ineffable May moon. Ludowika ...
Penny. For the first time Howat thought of her endowed with his name,
and it gave him a deep thrill of delight. He repeated it with moving but
soundless lips--Ludowika Penny.

Her husband lay with his eyes closed, his head bowed forward on his
chest, as if in sleep. At irregular intervals small, involuntary
contractions of pain twitched at his mouth. At times, too, he muttered
noiselessly. Extraordinary. Ludowika and Felix Winscombe and himself,
Howat Penny. A world peopled only by them; the silence of the room
dropped into infinite space, bottomless time. A sudden dread of such
vast emptiness seized Howat; he felt that he must say something,
recreate about them the illusion of safe and familiar spaces and walls.
It seemed that he was unable to speak; a leaden inhibition lay on his
power of utterance. He made a harsh sound in his throat, loud and
startling. Felix Winscombe raised his head, and Ludowika cried faintly.
Then silence again folded them.

Howat fastened his thoughts on trivial and practical affairs--the
furnishing of the house where he would take Ludowika, what David and
himself intended to do with the iron, and then his last, long talk with
his mother. She was astonishingly wise; she had seen far into Ludowika
and himself, but even her vision had stopped short of encompassing the
magnitude of his passion; she had not realized his new patience and
determination. He found himself counting the gorgeous birds in the
bed-hangings--twenty-six, twenty-seven, twenty-eight, and stopped
abruptly.

It had grown chilly in the room, and Ludowika had an India cashmere
shawl about her shoulders. The sombre garnets and blues hid the tinsel
gaiety of her gown and her bare shoulders. She appeared older than he
had ever seen her before. Her face, carefully studied, showed no trace
of beauty; her eyes were heavy, her lips dark; any efforts of animation
were suspended. She showed completely the effect of her life in courts
and a careless prodigality of hours and emotions. Howat, seeing all
this, felt only a fresh accession of his hunger for her; she was far
more compelling than when romantically viewed as a moon.

He sat with his chin propped on a palm; she was rigidly upright with her
arms at her sides; Felix Winscombe moved higher on t