“No, it was simple. She moved towards it slowly and picked it up, holding it out in front of her whilst the familiar perfume seemed to assert itself with damning insistence. F. 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 not only failed in making any impression, but seemed to increase the difficulties, for after an hour's toil he had broken the nail and slightly bent the iron bar. ‘Thank you,’ she said, leaning heavily on his arm for a moment. There were the burnt papers still in the grate. It looked very patient, she thought, and a little self-satisfied. There was nothing on her face to hint of the misery that brimmed her heart this morning.
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