Flora, with the toy in her hand, looked round at her companion; then
seeing his attention had been solicited in another quarter she moved
away with the shop-girl, who had evidently offered to conduct her into
the presence of more objects of the same sort. When she reached the
indicated spot I was in a position still to observe her. She had asked
some question about the working of the toy, and the girl, taking it
herself, began to explain the little secret. Flora bent her head over
it, but she clearly didn’t understand. I saw her, in a manner that
quickened my curiosity, give a glance back at the place from which
she had come. Lord Iffield was talking with another young person: she
satisfied herself of this by the aid of a question addressed to her own
attendant. She then drew closer to the table near which she stood and,
turning her back to me, bent her head lower over the collection of toys
and more particularly over the small object the girl had attempted
to explain. She took it back and, after a moment, with her face well
averted, made an odd motion of her arms and a significant little duck of
her head. These slight signs, singular as it may appear, produced in
my bosom an agitation so great that I failed to notice Lord Iffield’s
whereabouts. He had rejoined her; he was close upon her before I knew it
or before she knew it herself. I felt at that instant the strangest
of all impulses: if it could have operated more rapidly it would have
caused me to dash between them in some such manner as to give Flora a
warning. In fact as it was I think I could have done this in time had
I not been checked by a curiosity stronger still than my impulse. There
were three seconds during which I saw the young man and yet let him come
on. Didn’t I make the quick calculation that if he didn’t catch what
Flora was doing I too might perhaps not catch it? She at any rate
herself took the alarm. On perceiving her companion’s nearness she made,
still averted, another duck of her head and a shuffle of her hands so
precipitate that a little tin steamboat she had been holding escaped
from them and rattled down to the floor with a sharpness that I hear at
this hour. Lord Iffield had already seized her arm; with a violent jerk
he brought her round toward him. Then it was that there met my eyes a
quite distressing sight: this exquisite creature, blushing, glaring,
exposed, with a pair of big black-rimmed eyeglasses, defacing her by
their position, crookedly astride of her beautiful nose. She made a grab
at them with her free hand while I turned confusedly away.
VII
I don’t remember how soon it was I spoke to Geoffrey Dawling; his
sittings were irregular, but it was certainly the very next time he gave
me one.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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