She sat at table till the meal was over, lest Mr. Royall should remark
on her leaving; but when he stood up she rose also, without waiting to
help Verena. She had her foot on the stairs when he called to her to
come back.

"I've got a headache. I'm going up to lie down."

"I want you should come in here first; I've got something to say to
you."

She was sure from his tone that in a moment she would learn what every
nerve in her ached to know; but as she turned back she made a last
effort of indifference.

Mr. Royall stood in the middle of the office, his thick eyebrows
beetling, his lower jaw trembling a little. At first she thought he had
been drinking; then she saw that he was sober, but stirred by a deep and
stern emotion totally unlike his usual transient angers. And suddenly
she understood that, until then, she had never really noticed him or
thought about him. Except on the occasion of his one offense he had been
to her merely the person who is always there, the unquestioned central
fact of life, as inevitable but as uninteresting as North Dormer itself,
or any of the other conditions fate had laid on her. Even then she had
regarded him only in relation to herself, and had never speculated as
to his own feelings, beyond instinctively concluding that he would not
trouble her again in the same way. But now she began to wonder what he
was really like.

He had grasped the back of his chair with both hands, and stood looking