The sensation, for the few seconds, was extraordinary; her weakness, her desire, so long as she was yet not saving herself, flowered in her face like a light or a darkness.

She sought for some word that would cover this up; she reverted to the question of tea, speaking as if they shouldn't meet sooner.

"Then about five.

I count on you." On him too, however, something had descended; as to which this exactly gave him his chance.

"Ah, but I shall see you--! No ?" he said, coming nearer.
She had, with her hand still on the knob, her back against the door, so that her retreat, under his approach must be less than a step, and yet she couldn't for her life, with the other hand, have pushed him away.
He was so near now that she could touch him, taste him, smell him, kiss him, hold him; he almost pressed upon her, and the warmth of his face--frowning, smiling, she mightn't know which; only beautiful and strange--was bent upon her with the largeness with which objects loom in dreams.