” “It’s an unrest—a longing—What’s that?” The waiter had intervened. She could not look at him through an interval that seemed to her a vast gulf of time. The other kicked over the traces a bit, made rather a hit with her singing at some of those French places, and went the pace in a mild, ladylike sort of way. The man was thick set, with a bright roving eye. He hasn't found himself, as they say. “In five minutes I shall be ready. As she came close, he took a pace forward and seized her from behind, one strong arm clamping her tight against his chest, the free hand seizing her about the mouth, stifling the cry that gurgled in her throat. She was aware of people—her aunt, her father, her fellow-students, friends, and neighbors— moving about outside this glowing secret, very much as an actor is aware of the dim audience beyond the barrier of the footlights. He worked afternoons, when everybody else went to sleep; he worked at night under a heat-giving light, with insects buzzing and dropping about, with a blue haze of tobacco smoke that tried to get out and could not. We can get absorbed in play, in games, in the business we do.
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