Rossiter bore with his humour in so patient and self-denying a
spirit that his efforts failed lamentably and only made the situation worse
than it had been before.
Clare seemed to be now entirely in her mother's hands; she put her mother's
large flat body between herself and Peter and, through that, they were
compelled to talk.
Peter also knew now that Clare was exceedingly uncomfortable in his
presence--it was almost as though she had something to conceal. On several
occasions he had noticed that his sudden entrance into a room had confused
her; once he had caught her hurriedly pushing a letter out of sight. She
was now strangely timid when he was there; sometimes with a sudden furious
beating of the heart he fancied that she was coming back to him again
because she would make little half movements towards him and then draw
back. Once he found her crying.
The impulse to beg her to confide in him was almost stronger than he could
resist, and yet he was terrified lest by some sudden move he should
frighten her and drive her back and so lose the little ground that he had
gained. The strangest thing of all was that Mrs. Rossiter herself did not
know what Clare's trouble was. She, of course, put it all down to Peter,
but she could accuse him of nothing specific. Clare had not confided in
her.
Did Cards know? Peter suddenly asked himself with a strange pang of
jealousy.
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