At that
time I didn't in the least connect him with my wife. But the fellow
talked like a cheap novelist.--Or like a very good novelist for the
matter of that, if it's the business of a novelist to make you see
things clearly. And I tell you I see that thing as clearly as if it were
a dream that never left me. It appears that, not very far from the
Casino, he and the girl sat down in the darkness upon a public
bench. The lights from that place of entertainment must have
reached them through the tree-trunks, since, Edward said, he
could quite plainly see the girl's face--that beloved face with the
high forehead, the queer mouth, the tortured eyebrows, and the
direct eyes. And to Florence, creeping up behind them, they must
have presented the appearance of silhouettes. For I take it that
Florence came creeping up behind them over the short grass to a
tree that, I quite well remember, was immediately behind that
public seat. It was not a very difficult feat for a woman instinct
with jealousy. The Casino orchestra was, as Edward remembered
to tell me, playing the Rakocsy march, and although it was not
loud enough, at that distance, to drown the voice of Edward
Ashburnham it was certainly sufficiently audible to efface,
amongst the noises of the night, the slight brushings and rustlings
that might have been made by the feet of Florence or by her gown
in coming over the short grass.
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