She said she hoped she had not distressed him by the course she had felt obliged to take, and he told her not to be a fool. “Were you thinking of private apartments, a boarding-house or an hotel?” she asked. She became aware of the modelling of his ear, of the muscles of his neck and the textures of the hair that came off his brow, the soft minute curve of eyelid that she could just see beyond his brow; she perceived all these familiar objects as though they were acutely beautiful things. And then amusement crept into Alderley’s chest and he let his pistol hand fall. Wood the carpenter.
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