Page:The Other House (London, William Heinemann, 1896), Volume 1.djvu/120

 XI

turned away from her with a movement which was a confession of incompetence; a sense moreover of the awkwardness of being so close to a grief for which he had no direct remedy. He could only assure her, in his confusion, of his deep regret that she had had a distress. The extremity of her collapse, however, was brief, a gust of passion after which she instantly showed the effort to recover. "Don't mind me," she said through her tears; "I shall pull myself together; I shall be all right in a moment." He wondered whether he oughtn't to leave her; and yet to leave her was scarcely courteous. She was quickly erect again, with her characteristic thought for others flowering out through her pain. "Only don't let Julia know—that's all I ask of you. One's little bothers are one's little bothers—they're all in the day's work. Just give me three minutes, and I shan't show a trace." She