Without a word they began to walk, straight ahead, although that was not the direction of the Subway station. Myriads of stars looked down from a black, cold sky and the bare trees along the pavement creaked in a rising wind. A few people hurried by, but the street was almost deserted. Just before they came to the end, where it swerved into a more brightly lighted one, Gregory stopped.
"Jean, why did you come?"
His voice was harsh, and Jean felt the rigidity of his body, although they were almost a foot apart, and he did not touch her at all. She tried to turn her eyes away. If she did not look at him she could lie. But the desperate need in his drew her back.
"I had to. I had to know."
"You—didn't know?"
Jean shook her head.
"But you know, now?"
"Yes. I know."
There was a long silence in which all the tangle and pain of the last weeks were swept away. In the next block a taxi rattled to a stop before one of the huge gray stone apartments. A noisy trio got out and went laughing across the sidewalk. That was another world, with noise and confusion and aimless talk. In the world closing tighter and tighter about them there was no noise, no confusion, no aimless talk. It was still, filled with a depth of understanding beyond the reach of words.
The chauffeur slammed the door, mounted, and the taxi came swaying and rattling toward them. Gregory signaled and it lurched to a stop at the curb. With her hand still in his, Jean moved toward it. She got in and Gregory stepped in after her.