"It is the uncertainty," she added. "It's killing me. If I could only be sure—one way or the other—I—" Her voice quavered.
"Have you dined?" he interrupted.
"No; I'm not hungry. I haven't thought of eating."
"But you must," he urged. "You must keep up your strength. Unless you do I shall refuse to help you."
"I've no appetite," she said. "I hunger only for facts—for the truth."
"Then you must prepare for it. It may be too strong for an empty stomach."
But this only alarmed her. "You know?" she cried hysterically. "You know something already?"
"Nothing," he answered—"nothing at all. Only—well, the fact is, I haven't dined, either. I came straight here from the station. Could you—"
"You poor boy!" she broke in. "Of course. Please touch the bell. There; behind you."
"Won't you come out with me?"