He was not looking at her, but she felt the groping,
nervous touch of his search, felt suddenly the grip of his fingers above
her wrist. He leaned forward a little; still he dared not look at her.
His hard stare remained fastened on Heyst's back. In an extremely low
hiss, his fixed idea of argument found expression scathingly:
"See! He's no good. He's not the man for you!"
He glanced at her at last. Her lips moved a little, and he was awed
by that movement without a sound. Next instant the hard grasp of his
fingers vanished from her arm. Heyst had shut the door. On his way back
to the table, he crossed the path of the girl they had called Alma--she
didn't know why--also Magdalen, whose mind had remained so long in doubt
as to the reason of her own existence. She no longer wondered at that
bitter riddle, since her heart found its solution in a blinding, hot
glow of passionate pride.
CHAPTER TEN
She passed by Heyst as if she had indeed been blinded by some secret,
lurid, and consuming glare into which she was about to enter. The
curtain of the bedroom door fell behind her into rigid folds. Ricardo's
vacant gaze seemed to be watching the dancing flight of a fly in mid
air.
"Extra dark outside, ain't it?" he muttered.
"Not so dark but that I could see that man of yours prowling about
there," said Heyst in measured tones.
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