There was something in her face that induced him to relax his hold. She withdrew her hand slowly, her eyes on his.
"Aren't you going to say good-by?"
She shook her head, from the little doorway of the rotunda. "No. What's the use? What good-by is possible between you and me? I'm—I'm just going."
And she was gone.
With a quick movement he sprang to the opening between two of the small pillars. "Edith!" She turned. "Edith! Come here. Come here, for God's sake! Only one word more."
She came back slowly, not to the door, but to the opening through which he leaned, his knee on the seat inside. "What is it?"
He got possession of her hand. "Tell me again that quotation he gave us."
She repeated it: "'The letter killeth, but the Spirit giveth life.'"
"Good, isn't it? I suppose it is from Shakespeare?"
"I don't know. I'll ask him—I'll look it up. If ever I see you again I'll tell you."