Without knowing why,
they went in the direction of the wall.
There was no moon when they reached the highroad. It would rise later,
Elaine said in her low, slightly monotonous voice. Hubert was so stunned
by the memory of his ruined picture that he forgot his earlier encounter
with Berenice--that is, in describing it he had failed to minutely
record his behaviour. But in the cool evening air his conscience became
alive and he guiltily wondered whether he dare tell his misconduct--no,
imprudence? Why not? She regarded him as a possible husband for
Berenice--but how embarrassing! He made up his mind to say nothing; when
the morrow came he would write Elaine the truth and bid her good-by. He
could not in honour continue to visit this home where resided the woman
he loved--with a jealous daughter. Why jealous? What a puzzle, and what
an absurd one! He helped Elaine to a seat on the wall and sat near her.
For several minutes neither spoke. They were again facing the pool,
which looked in the dusk like a cracked mirror.
"It is not clear yet to me," murmured Elaine.
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