of his breathing, and he fell across the ledge, lifting his face to a
starless and unstirring heat. Waves of complete physical exhaustion
passed over him. An utter horror fastened on his brain.

"Oh, God," he said, with numb lips, "we thank Thee for this, Thy daily
blessing--" He broke off with an effort. That was his father pronouncing
a grace. "Oh God--" he said again, when it seemed to him that in the
darkness he saw the blank placidity of a Buddha carved from gray stone.
Tears ran over his sunken cheeks, salt and warm like blood.




VI

The night was so oppressive, continuing such an unusually sultry period
for the season, that Sidsall, ordinarily impervious to the effects of
weather, was unable to sleep. Although the door between her room and her
parents' was shut, she heard her father--his step, at once quick and
firm, was easily recognizable moving about beyond. Her restlessness
increased and she got up, crossing the floor to the window open on the
garden, where she knelt, the thick plait of her hair across her cheek and
shoulder, with her arms propped on the ledge. The depths of sky were
hidden in a darkness like night made visible; and, in place of moving
air, there were slow waves of perfume, now from the lilacs and now from
the opening hedge of June roses.

Her brain was filled by a multitude of minor images and speculations, but
fixed at their back was the presence of Roger Brevard. She approved of
him absolutely. He had exactly the formal manner that gave her a pleasant