“Perhaps that is only sleeping,” he said. Five hours later she tiptoed down the hall and paused at the threshold of what they now called his study. Her eyebrows, pulled down by the stress of thought, now resumed their normal arches; and pleased with her discovery, she smiled. “Dear me! I wonder what I ought to do. For nothing will ever convince me that it is not the man’s share in life to shield, to protect, to lead and toil and watch and battle with the world at large. She turned towards the door, and had taken a pace towards it when it was flung open. Even the abstract paintings on the wall were gray. The glance, which he threw at the door, was singularly expressive of his character: it was a mixture of alarm, effrontery, and resolution.
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