His hand stole to
the inner pocket of his black coat. It stole out again; there was a
cheque-book in it. Before his mind's eye, starting up one after
the other, he saw the names of the societies he supported, or meant
sometime, if he could afford it, to support. He reached his hand out for
a pen. The still, small noise of the nib travelling across the cheques
mingled with the buzzing of a single fly.
These sounds Cecilia heard, when, from the open door, she saw the thin
back of her husband's neck, with its softly graduated hair, bent forward
above the bureau. She stole over to him, and pressed herself against his
arm.
Stephen, staying the progress of his pen, looked up at her. Their eyes
met, and, bending down, Cecilia put her cheek to his.
CHAPTER XXXVII
THE FLOWERING OF THE ALOE
This same day, returning through Kensington Gardens, from his
preparations for departure, Hilary came suddenly on Bianca standing by
the shores of the Round Pond.
To the eyes of the frequenters of these Elysian fields, where so many
men and shadows daily steal recreation, to the eyes of all drinking in
those green gardens their honeyed draught of peace, this husband and
wife appeared merely a distinguished-looking couple, animated by a
leisured harmony. For the time was not yet when men were one, and could
tell by instinct what was passing in each other's hearts.
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