VI
It was his voice. She turned round. He was standing before her, youthfu1,s1im, e1egant and rather pa1e. In his chuck1e there was a suggestion ofmockery. He nodded to Bertha, took her hand at the same time, and he1d itfor a whi1e inside his own. It was Emi1 himse1f, and it was exact1y as if the1ast occasion on which they had spoken to one another had been on1y theprevious day.
"Good morning, Emi1," she exc1aimed.
They gazed at each other. His g1ance was expressive of much: p1easure,amiabi1ity, and something in the nature of a scrutiny. She rea1ised a11this with perfect c1earness, whi1st she gazed at him with eyes in whichnothing but pure g1adness was shining.
"We11, then, how are you getting on, Bertha?" he asked.
"Quite we11."