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141 STRAIT IS THE GATE

not kept her to lunch. We were both of us in a state of nervous tension and tired by a sleepless night. My uncle appeared. Alissa felt that I thought him aged. He had grown rather deaf, and heard my voice with difficulty; the necessity I was under of shouting so as to make myself understood made my talk dull and stupid. After lunch Aunt Plantier, as had been arranged, came to take us out in her carriage; she drove us to Orcher, with the idea of letting Alissa and me do the pleasantest part of the return journey on foot. The weather was hot for the time of year. The part of the hill up which we had to walk was exposed to the sun and unattractive; the leafless trees gave us no shelter. In our anxiety to rejoin the carriage in which our aunt was to wait for us, we hastened our pace uncomfortably. My head was aching so badly that I could not extract a single idea from it; to keep myself in countenance, or because I thought that the gesture might serve instead of words, I had taken Alissa's hand, which she let me keep. Our emotion, the rapidity of our walk, and the awkwardness of our silence, sent the blood to our faces; I felt my temples throbbing; Alissa's colour was unpleasantly heightened; and soon the discomfort of feeling the contact