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Now these thoughts knitted and joined together so well, one fitting into the other, that out of little pieces she constructed a perfect whole, and found herself desperately in love; which should teach the ladies never to play with a man's weapons, seeing that like glue, they always stick to the fingers.
As she wove them, Aunt Rachel knitted, and from time to time fragments of talk passed between the two women. It was always the white-haired lady who spoke first, and Annabel made all sorts of salutes and obeisances with her eyes before replying. "I have not seen your husband," Aunt Rachel said to Annabel one day. Annabel made roving play with her eyes.
He crossed his legs and the tilted foot kicked out, urged by a hidden savagery. The clicking of Mary's needles maddened him. He glanced at her. She was knitting a silk tie for his birthday. She saw the glance. The fierceness of the small fingers slackened; they knitted off a row or two, then ceased. Her hands lay quiet in her lap. She leaned her head against the back of the chair.
He tried every sort of music, easy and intricate and his happiest hours were those when, with glass in eye and brow knitted in anxious scrutiny, he could peer his way through the labyrinth of a sonata or fantasia much too complex for any one but a trained artist, enjoying to the full the mental excitement of the discordant struggle, and comfortably conscious that as his residence was "detached," no obtrusive neighbor could either warn him to desist, or set up an opposition nuisance next door by constant practice on the distressingly over-popular piano.
But she would not listen to his theory that "all this romance stuff is simply moonshine elegant when you're courting, but no use busting yourself keeping it up all your life." She thought of surprises, games, to vary the days. She knitted an astounding purple scarf, which she hid under his supper plate.
He was silent a moment, leaning on the chair opposite, watching her with knitted forehead, while her apprehension fluttered for what he should do next. He had done away with all the amenities of meeting and attacked his point with a directness that took her breath. "You know what I've come for," he said, "but now I'm here, now that I see you, I wonder if there's something I haven't reckoned on."
The girls were all surging together in the ante-room, comparing answers, and referring eagerly to Irene, who read aloud her own list with a self- satisfied air. Those whose numbers agreed with hers announced the fact with whoops of joy, those who had differed knitted their brows and were silent.
Olivia attended the funeral, wearing a composed but rather pathetic air, owing to the fact that her brow was most of the time knitted in a pondering, troubled frown. Lady Croxley, Lord Loudwater's aged aunt, rode with her in the first coach.
He was then, for the first time, employed in a diplomatic mission to Berlin, where he so far insinuated himself into the good graces of their Prussian Majesties that the King admitted him to the royal table, and on the parade at Potsdam presented him to his generals and officers as an aide-de-camp 'du plus grand homme que je connais; whilst the Queen gave him a scarf knitted by her own fair hands.
I have already gone as a rajah." Heideck knitted his brows impatiently. The young woman, whose keen eyes had noticed it, went on impetuously: "Although it seems you are tired of me, I will not leave you. Distance is love's worst enemy, and you are the only tie that binds me to life." Heideck cast down his eyes, so as not to betray his thoughts.
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