Rahab

Excerpt from Rahab
The door opened against the drawn chain, grating against it.
In the grey strip a woman's face, very grey, very unexpectant, suddenly was bright.
It measured a man, young, standing at ease. The chain clicked free. "O it's you, Mr. Samson." The door opened wide, shut them in.
The hall was a long shadow beyond the glow of them standing. He was quiet waiting, not sheer against her: his shaggy coat poured the street's coldness. She was a dim thing about eyes.
"I'm so glad it's you, Mr. Samson."
She walked noiseless through shadow, she took no space from it, she was infinitesimal within a mood. He followed.
"I was taking it right easy . . reading."
In the gaslight she turned and fronted him. She took his coat. He was a fair boy, gentle, somewhat plump. He sat down, she stood.
- I have been in this room before, I have seen this woman before. It is not the sort of room, she is not the sort of woman I want to see for I am here for neither. . . Why strangely now this sense of her reality upon me?
It was her room, there they were after all, the woman in her room touching upon him. - Let me see in this silence the woman in her room.
Her quiet words did not obtrude upon a silence whose margin he caught as it waved. He saw her a battered creature.
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