rusting apart....
The moment prolonged itself, and they sat numb. How long had it lasted?
How long ago was it that she had thought: "It's going to be easier than
I imagined"? Suddenly she felt Strefford's queer smile upon her, and saw
in his eyes a look, not of reproach or disappointment, but of deep and
anxious comprehension. Instead of being angry or hurt, he had seen, he
had understood, he was sorry for her!
Impulsively she slipped her hand into his, and they sat silent for
another moment. Then he stood up and took her cloak from the divan.
"Shall we go now! I've got cards for the private view of the Reynolds
exhibition at the Petit Palais. There are some portraits from
Altringham. It might amuse you."
In the taxi she had time, through their light rattle of talk, to
readjust herself and drop back into her usual feeling of friendly ease
with him. He had been extraordinarily considerate, for anyone who always
so undisguisedly sought his own satisfaction above all things; and
if his considerateness were just an indirect way of seeking that
satisfaction now, well, that proved how much he cared for her, how
necessary to his happiness she had become. The sense of power was
undeniably pleasant; pleasanter still was the feeling that someone
really needed her, that the happiness of the man at her side depended
on her yes or no. She abandoned herself to the feeling, forgetting the
abysmal interval of his caress, or at least saying to herself that in
time she would forget it, that really there was nothing to make a fuss
about in being kissed by anyone she liked as much as Streff....
She had guessed at once why he was taking her to see the Reynoldses.
Fashionable and artistic Paris had recently discovered English
eighteenth century art. The principal collections of England had yielded
up their best examples of the great portrait painter's work, and the
private view at the Petit Palais was to be the social event of the
afternoon. Everybody--Strefford's everybody and Susy's--was sure to
be there; and these, as she knew, were the occasions that revived
Strefford's intermittent interest in art. He really liked picture shows
as much as the races, if one could be sure of seeing as many people
there. With Nick how different it would have been! Nick hated openings
and varnishing days, and worldly aesthetics in general; he would have
waited till the tide of fashion had ebbed, and slipped off with Susy to
see the pictures some mor
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