he muffled and disguised and arranged
it, showing in fact in these dissimulations a cleverness equal to but
one thing in the world, equal to her abjection: she would let it be
known for anything, for everything, but the truth of which it was made.
That was what, precisely, Charlotte Stant would be doing now; that was
the present motive and support, to a certainty, of each of her looks and
motions. She was the twentieth woman, she was possessed by her doom, but
her doom was also to arrange appearances, and what now concerned him was
to learn how she proposed. He would help her, would arrange WITH her to
any point in reason; the only thing was to know what appearance could
best be produced and best be preserved. Produced and preserved on her
part of course; since on his own there had been luckily no folly to
cover up, nothing but a perfect accord between conduct and obligation.

They stood there together, at all events, when the door had closed
behind their friend, with a conscious, strained smile and very much as
if each waited for the other to strike the note or give the pitch. The
young man held himself, in his silent suspense--only not more afraid
because he felt her own fear. She was afraid of herself, however;
whereas, to his gain of lucidity, he was afraid only of her. Would she
throw herself into his arms, or would she be otherwise wonderful? She
would see what he would do--so their queer minute without words told
him; and she would act accordingly. But what could he do but just let
her see that he would make anything, everything, for her, as honourably
easy as possible? Even if she should throw herself into his arms he
would make that easy--easy, that is, to overlook, to ignore, not to
remember, and not, by the same token, either, to regret. This was not
what in fact happened, though it was also not at a single touch, but by
the finest gradations, that his tension subsided. "It's too delightful
to be back!" she said at last; and it was all she definitely gave
him--being moreover nothing but what anyone else might have said. Yet
with two or three other things that, on his response, followed it, it
quite pointed the path, while the tone of it, and her whole attitude,
were as far removed as need have been from the truth of her situation.
The abjection that was present to him as of the essence quite failed to
peep out, and he soon enough saw that if she was arranging she could be
trusted to arrange. Good--it was all h