But this sinking was only momentary. Mistress of herself from
pride, from love, from necessity, and also because of a woman's
vanity in self-sacrifice, she met Heyst, returning from the strangers'
bungalow, with a dear glance and a smile.
The smile he managed to answer, but, noticing that he avoided her eyes,
she composed her lips and lowered her gaze. For the same reason she
hastened to speak to him in a tone of indifference, which she put on
without effort, as if she had grown adept in duplicity since sunrise.
"You have been over there again?"
"I have. I thought--but you had better know first that we have lost Wang
for good."
She repeated "For good?" as if she had not understood.
"For good or evil--I shouldn't know which if you were to ask me. He has
dismissed himself. He's gone."
"You expected him to go, though, didn't you?"
Heyst sat down on the other side of the table.
"Yes. I expected it as soon as I discovered that he had annexed my
revolver. He says he hasn't taken it. That's untrue of course. A
Chinaman would not see the sense of confessing under any circumstances.
To deny any charge is a principle of right conduct; but he hardly
expected to be believed. He was a little enigmatic at the last, Lena. He
startled me."
Heyst paused. The girl seemed absorbed in her own thoughts.
"He startled me," I repeated Heyst.
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