Full resolution (JPEG) - On this page / på denna sida - Part I - VII
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THE CONFESSION OF A FOOL 91
in an arm-cliair underneath the lamp and took ui>
some crochet work. Taciturn, morose, not at all
pretty, she left the conversation entirely to me, and
since she made no replies, it soon degenerated into
a monologue.
I watched her from my chimney corner as she sat with
drooping head, bending over her work. Profoundly
mysterious, lost in thought, she seemed at times oblivious
of my presence. I ^\’ondered whether I had called at an
inconvenient time, or whether my return to town had
really created the unfavourable impression which I had
half anticipated. All at once my eyes, travelling round
the room, were arrested by a display of her ankles under-
neath the tablecloth. I beheld her finely-shaped calf,
clothed in a white stocking ; a gaily embroidered garter
belted that charming muscle which turns a man’s brain
because it stimulates his imagination and tempts him to
the construction of the whole of the remaining form.
Her arched foot with its high instep was dressed in a
Cinderella’s slipper.
At the time I took it for an accident, but later on I
learned that a woman is always conscious of being looked
at when she exhibits more than her ankles. Fascinated
by the sight I changed the conversation, and aptly turned
it on the subject of my supposed love affair.
She drew herself up, turned towards me, and glanced
at me sharply.
’’You can at least pride yourself on being a faithful
lover!
"
My eyes remained riveted on the spot underneath the
tablecloth, where the snowy stocking shone below the
cherry-coloured ribbon. With an effort I pulled myself
together ; we looked at each other ; her pupils shone large
in the lamplight.
" Unfortunately I can !
" I replied dryly.
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