A heavy, copper-coloured beam of light came in at the west window,
gilding the outlines of the children's heads with red gold, and falling
on the wall opposite in a rich, ruddy illumination. Ursula, however,
was scarcely conscious of it. She was busy, the end of the day was
here, the work went on as a peaceful tide that is at flood, hushed to
retire.
This day had gone by like so many more, in an activity that was like a
trance. At the end there was a little haste, to finish what was in
hand. She was pressing the children with questions, so that they should
know all they were to know, by the time the gong went. She stood in
shadow in front of the class, with catkins in her hand, and she leaned
towards the children, absorbed in the passion of instruction.
She heard, but did not notice the click of the door. Suddenly she
started. She saw, in the shaft of ruddy, copper-coloured light near
her, the face of a man. It was gleaming like fire, watching her,
waiting for her to be aware. It startled her terribly.
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