He dared not do otherwise.... It was only a swoon. But was
it only a swoon? Suppose ...! He was afraid of public opinion; he
was afraid of Mrs. Tams's opinion. Mrs. Tams had pierced him. He went
back, dashing his hat on to the oak chest.
III
Rachel was lying on the hearth-rug, one arm stretched nonchalantly
over the fender and the hand close to the fire. Her face was whiter
than any face he had ever seen, living or dead. He shook; the
inanimate figure with the disarranged clothes and hair, prone and
deserted there in the solitude of the warm, familiar room, struck
terror into him. He bent down; he knelt down and drew the arm away
from the fire. He knew not in the least what was the proper thing to
do; and naturally the first impulse of his ignorance was to raise
her body from the ground. But she was so heavy, so appallingly inert,
that, fortunately, he could not do so, and he let her head subside
again.
Then he remembered that the proper thing to do in these cases was to
loosen the clothes round the neck; but he could not loosen her bodice
because it was fastened behind and the hooks were so difficult. He
jumped to the window and opened it. The blind curved inward like a
sail under the cold entering breeze.
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