Both a glass and a wall--a glass to reveal absolutely, a wall to
divide them, the one from the other, for ever.
His brain, active now like a snake coiling and uncoiling within the
flaming spaces of his mind, darted upon Morris. He must find Morris at
once--no delay--at once--at once. What to do? He did not know. But he must
be face to face with him and deal with him--that wretched, miserable,
whining, crying fool. That he--!--HE!...But the picture stopped there.
He saw now neither Morris nor his wife. Only a clerical hat, a high white
collar like a wall, a sniggering laugh, a door closing.
And his headache was upon him again, his heart pounding and leaping. No
matter. He must find Morris. Nothing else. He went to the door, opened it,
and walked cautiously into the hall as though he had intruded into some
one else's house and was there to rob.
As he came into the hall Mrs. Brandon was crossing it, also furtively.
They saw one another and stood staring. She would have spoken, but
something in his face terrified her, terrified her so desperately that she
suddenly turned and stumbled upstairs, repeating some words over and over
to herself.
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