Steps approached from the adjoining room. She became attentive and really wanted to be quick, but forgot that she was engaged in filling an empty box and with rapid movements she instinctively returned everything to its usual place in the cupboard.
Thomas stopped near her.
“What do you think, how much more time do you require?”
“There is still much to be done,” answered Anne guardedly. What it was she could not have told.
“In a week the house has to be handed over,” muttered her husband nervously.
Anne looked up at him.
The lamplight lit up Thomas’s face. How old and worn out he looked! His well-shaped mouth seemed pitifully dry and between his cheek bones the sunken crevices were darkened with purplish-blue shadows.
Anne thought her eyes deluded her and got up.
Thomas snatched at his chest and again made the ominous movement with his hand. Anne could no longer believe that it was accidental. As if to escape her maddening anxiety she flung herself into his arms and pressed her head to his chest.
Thomas stood motionless as if he had lost consciousness. He breathed heavily and stared anxiously into space above his wife’s head. His heart beat faintly a rapid course, stumbled suddenly, and for an instant there was an awful, cold silence in his chest.