Hitherto she had seen it chiefly in pictures and other works of art, incidentally, and as a thing taken out of life. All through that brief but measureless space of time during which wonder kept him silent, as fear did her, she cowered there, a limp helpless object. People sat in unusual pews, and a wide margin of hassocky emptiness intervened between the ceremony and the walls. “I should like to speak to you for a few minutes,” he said to Anna, dropping his voice a little. ‘Something wrong, madame?’ Her fan came up swiftly, hiding the lower part of her face. A brief feeling of empathy with Pottiswick passed through him.
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