"Why, mine, of course," put in Vanda.
He thrust aside the paper and took a cigarette from a large box at his mother's elbow, set it alight and began to walk up and down the large room. He remained in shadow for several seconds; there was no electric light in Ruvno and they were obliged to economize in oil in these difficult times. He passed and repassed under the one lamp and they noticed that each time he emerged out of the shadows he looked graver, more determined to perform some unpleasant task. Vanda had grown as pale as when the priest told her Joseph was sentenced to death. Minnie, ever watchful, thought she had changed greatly of late; she used to think her commonplace and dull; but not now. She, too, followed Ian with her eyes.
At last he spoke. And there was all the authority of the head of the house in look, tone and manner.
"Vanda, you cannot marry him, now."
"Why?"
He stopped before her, the table between them, the light shining on his large, well-shaped head. He was calm, his voice low; yet great emotion lay beneath.
"Why did Rennenkampf sentence him to death?"
You could have heard a pin drop in that vast room. All knew the answer, but none had the courage to give it, least of all Vanda, white to the lips, shaking with nervous excitement.
"Think of it," said Ian, almost in a whisper. "And on Ruvno soil."
Quivering in every nerve, she sprang to her feet, her face transformed by passion, indignation, a desire to defend her absent lover.