She paused and looked back towards him. By the white light of the little taper his face appeared absolutely ghastly, and his heavy eyelids drooped in a way that pierced her heart.
“I think,” he said, when he was beside her, “that it is better that I go to-morrow very early, and that we meet no more.”
At that she was forced to put her hand against the wall in the seeking for some support without herself. They were upon the first step of the stairs, she leaning against one side wall and he standing close to the other. After he had spoken he crossed to her and his voice altered.
“If you had loved me,” he said, “here—now—I should have kissed you, and all would have been for us as of the skies above.”
“Oh, look out!” she exclaimed.
He was close above her.
“You are afraid of me?”
“No, it is the wax; you are letting it drip on us both.”
“It should stop upon the box,” he said shortly.
She began to mount the stairs, pulling off her gloves as she went. One fell, and he stooped quickly for it, with the result that he dropped the match-box. Again they were alone in the darkness.