'I'll tell Thomas, shall I?' he said.
'I must go almost immediately after dinner,' she said.
It was a dark, cold evening. There was no fire in the drawing-room,
they sat in the library. He was mostly silent, absent, and Winifred
talked little. But when Gerald did rouse himself, he smiled and was
pleasant and ordinary with her. Then there came over him again the long
blanks, of which he was not aware.
She was very much attracted by him. He looked so preoccupied, and his
strange, blank silences, which she could not read, moved her and made
her wonder over him, made her feel reverential towards him.
But he was very kind. He gave her the best things at the table, he had
a bottle of slightly sweet, delicious golden wine brought out for
dinner, knowing she would prefer it to the burgundy. She felt herself
esteemed, needed almost.
As they took coffee in the library, there was a soft, very soft
knocking at the door. He started, and called 'Come in.' The timbre of
his voice, like something vibrating at high pitch, unnerved Gudrun. A
nurse in white entered, half hovering in the doorway like a shadow. She
was very good-looking, but strangely enough, shy and self-mistrusting.
'The doctor would like to speak to you, Mr Crich,' she said, in her
low, discreet voice.
'The doctor!' he said, starting up. 'Where is he?' 'He is in the dining-room.' 'Tell him I'm coming.' He drank up his coffee, and followed the nurse, who had dissolved like
a shadow.
'Which nurse was that?' asked Gudrun.
'Miss Inglis--I like her best,' replied Winifred.
After a while Gerald came back, looking absorbed by his own thoughts,
and having some of that tension and abstraction which is seen in a
slightly drunken man. He did not say what the doctor had wanted him
for, but stood before the fire, with his hands behind his back, and his
face open and as if rapt. Not that he was really thinking--he was only
arrested in pure suspense inside himself, and thoughts wafted through
his mind without order.
'I must go now and see Mama,' said Winifred, 'and see Dadda before he
goes to sleep.' She bade them both good-night.
Gudrun also rose to take her leave.
'You needn't go yet, need you?' said Gerald, glancing quickly at the
clock.' It is early yet. I'll walk down with you when you go. Sit down,
don't hurry away.' Gudrun sat down, as if, absent as he was, his will had power over her.
She felt almost mesmerised. He was strange to her, something unknown.
What was he thinking, what was he feeling, as he stood there so rapt,
saying nothing? He kept her--she could feel that. He would not let her
go. She watched him in humble submissiveness.