Well, he is not a ghost; yet every nerve I have is unstrung: for a moment I am beyond my own mastery.
What does it mean? I did not think I should tremble in this way when I saw him,
or lose my voice or the power of motion in his presence.
I will go back as soon as I can stir: I need not make an absolute fool of myself.
I know another way to the house.
It does not signify if I knew twenty ways; for he has seen me.
"Hillo!" he cries; and he puts up his book and his pencil. "There you are! Come on, if you please."
I suppose I do come on; though in what fashion I know not;
being scarcely cognisant of my movements, and solicitous only to appear calm;
and, above all, to control the working muscles of my face
which I feel rebel insolently against my will, and struggle to express what I had resolved to conceal.
But I have a veil -- it is down: I may make shift yet to behave with decent composure.